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:x^ 



BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH OF SIR WALTER 
SCOTT 

Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, August 
15, 1771. He was the ninth of his parents' twelve 
children. His father was a Waiter to the Signet, as an 
Edinburgh solicitor is called, and was himself the fifth 
in direct descent from the Walter Scott known in 
legend as Auld Wat of Harden, who figures in " The 
Lay of the Last Minstrel.-' The ancestors that came 
between were typical Scotchmen of the better sort, 
each in his day and generation loyal to king and coun- 
try, and of strongly marked personal characteristics, 
''My birth was neither distinguished nor sordid," Scott 
himself wrote. ''According to the prejudices of my 
country it was esteemed gentle, as I was connected, 
though remotely, with ancient families both by my 
father's and mother's side." He took a special pride 
in being " lineally descended from that ancient chieftain 
[Auld Wat of Harden] whose name I have made to 
ring in many a ditty, and from his fair dame, the 
Flower of Yarrow, — no bad genealogy for a Border 
minstrel." His mother's father. Dr. Rutherford, was 
a professor of medicine in the University of Edin^ 



iv SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

burgh. Besides inheriting from Mrs. Scott a gift of 
imagination, he came by native right into the best 
traditions of culture in the Scottish capital. 

The result of a fever he had as a child was a lame- 
ness which lasted his lifetime. In spite of it, during 
his boyhood, much of which he passed with his father's 
father at Sandyknowe, he became early an excellent 
horseman, and active in every sport which he was at 
all able to enter. At home he showed the sweetness 
of nature which, through all the changing fortunes of 
his later life, made his fellow creatures love him. Of 
his diverse faculties of imagination and strength of pur- 
pose, an anecdote of his childhood is significant. It 
is told of him as a boy less than six years old, that 
one night he overheard the talk of two servants in the 
house. One of them, he found, was beginning to tell 
the other a ghost story. He longed to hear it, yet 
felt so sure of lying broad awake till morning if he did 
listen, that he pulled the bedclothes over his head, 
and went to sleep — a man of better courage than 
many an older one who has not learned the saying of 
^'No." Many tales might be told to show how the 
love of romance and the past, particularly of Scotland, 
became early a part of his very life. Good chance 
favored this natural bent towards antiquarian know- 
ledge, for among his family, their friends and servants, 
there were many who could and would tell the eager 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. v 

boy the stories of his country. Of his career at school, 
it has been written that he ^^ glanced like a meteor 
from one end of the class to the other." *' Little 
Latin and less Greek " was Shakespeare's store of clas- 
sical learning ; and Scott, at least in one regard, was 
more deficient, for of Greek he refused to learn a 
word. It must be of Latin that we are told how he 
excelled in translations, not by literal accuracy, but in 
catching the spirit of the language. Like other imagi- 
native school-boys, he had successes with his mates, in 
which his masters were not concerned ; for the boys 
valued highly his story-telling powers, and he took no 
little pride in them himself. 

As a collegian and a student of law, in his father's 
office and in Edinburgh University, he did not distin- 
guish himself for steady work or scholarship. But his 
marvellous memory, already stored with legendary 
lore, and his tremendous energy in accomplishing any 
end, of study or play, which especially attracted him, 
made a name for him that was entirely his own. At 
this time he read much in the direction of military ad- 
venture and ancient legend and romance, the themes 
which most appealed to him. He was adding also to 
his store of knowledge by the walking-tours he usually 
took with a friend into Liddesdale. These were bois- 
terous excursions, in which the young men allowed 
themselves no little freedom of action, but Walter 



vi SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

Scott made them serve an end beyond that of present 
pleasure. He talked familiarly with everybody, '^ never 
made himsel' the great man or took any airs in the 
company/' as an old companion said. The conse- 
quence was a knowledge of the historic scenes and 
the life of his country, in his own day and before it, 
such as he could hardly have gained from years spent 
over books. One can see the young fellow, high-spir- 
ited, full of humor and feeling, singing and laughing, 
then gravely serious, noticeable always for the fore- 
head which won him the nickname of " Old Peveril," 
for his long, mobile upper lip, and for his lameness ; 
one can see the part he played in the evening's sport 
in many a peasant's cottage, and whatever scruples may 
suggest themselves at the form it sometimes took, we 
may surely rejoice that the man who was to make 
most of us feel towards Scotland as we now do, entered 
with his whole heart into the life about him — 
whatever its outward circumstance. His steady-going 
father could not see the value of these haphazard ex- 
cursions, and said to him one day, " I greatly doubt, 
sir, you were born for nae better then a gangrel scrape- 
gut." 

His mistress, the law, must have had somewhat the 
same opinion of him. In any event, she treated him 
no better than she treats others who serve her half- 
heartedly. Scott's ambitions in his profession, how- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. vii 

ever, were not for a great legal career so much as for 
securing posts whicli would yield him some income 
and more leisure. These he did obtain, and served in 
them faithfully enough to win himself, with the aid 
of his more personal work at the bar, a good, if not a 
distinguished name as a lawyer. 

His legal career was not advanced by the reputation 
he soon began to gain as a poet. We may well believe 
that a canny client would seek another spokesman in 
a dispute than a man whose thoughts were known to 
be concerned with imagination and the past more than 
with facts and the present. He had not been long at 
the law when the mystical German ballad poetry of 
the time first became known to him, and he attempted 
at once a translation of Burger's ^^ Lenore." In 1799 
he made his first serious appearance in print as the 
translator of Goethe's ^^ Gotz von Berlichingen." The 
first book that could more truly be called his own, 
however, was " The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border," 
which appeared in 1802. It put into permanent form 
the ballads which he and his friends had been collect- 
ing in their walking-tours, with masterly notes and an 
introduction by Scott himself, together with striking 
ballads of his own, written in imitation of the ancient 
manner. These gave him a name at once, and the suc- 
cess of the two volumes in which the work appeared 
was immediate. The whole edition of 800 copies was 



viii SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

sold within a year, and in 1803 a second edition, in 
three volumes, was brought out. 

Yet this success was as nothing in comparison with 
that of " The Lay of the Last Minstrel," his next vol- 
ume. The poem was begun in 1802, while Scott was 
confined to his room by the effects of the kick of a 
horse during a charge of a volunteer troop of cavalry 
in which the poet served enthusiastically as cornet. 
He first intended to give the " Lay " a place in his 
" Border Minstrelsy " as one of his attempts at ballad- 
writing, but it soon grew beyond the proportions and 
importance of a poem that could stand as but one of 
many. For the suggestion of the story he was indebted 
to Lady Dalkeith, afterwards the Duchess of Buccleuch, 
to whom the dedication of the poem was a single evi- 
dence of Scott's devotion to the feudal head of his 
house, the Duke of Buccleuch. The immediate popu- 
larity of the poem was almost without parallel. It 
appeared in 1805, and within a year 2250 copies were 
sold. In the next year 4250 more supplied the public 
demands, and before 1830, 44,000 copies had been 
bought in Great Britain, solely in legitimate trade. 
Such a vogue can best be accounted for by remember- 
ing what the poetry of the period that was passing 
away had been, formally correct and dignified, but 
wholly without the stir of impetuous spirit which 
marks Scott at his best. ^' I am sensible," Sir Walter 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. ix 

himself once wrote, 'Hhat if there be anything good 
about my poetry, or prose either, it is a hurried frank- 
ness of composition, which pleases soldiers, sailors, and 
young people of bold and active dispositions." The 
natures which have no kinship with these classes, the 
persons of sluggish soul, are the only ones which Scott 
is quite incapable of touching, 

'' Marmion," published in 1808, took possession of 
men's minds even more completely than the ^' Lay," 
as its better coherence and truer dramatic quality gave 
it the right to do. Sir Walter declared that he wrote 
most of it in the saddle, and the dash of the verse — 
hurrying the reader along with it — fully bears out his 
assertion. The metre which was chosen for his longer 
poems proved at once its power of lodging its lines in 
men's heads. Mr. E-ichard H. Hutton in his Life of 
Scott tells a story worth reprinting : " I have heard of 
two old men — complete strangers — passing each 
other on a dark London night, when one of them hap- 
pened to be repeating to himself . . . the last lines of 
the account of Flodden Field in ' Marmion,' ^ Charge, 
Chester, charge,' when suddenly a reply came out of 
the darkness, ^ On, Stanley, on,' whereupon they fin- 
ished the death of Marmion between them, took off 
their hats to each other, and parted, laughing." 

After '' Marmion " came " The Lady of the Lake," 
in 1810. As it will speak for itself to every reader of 



X SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

this book, we need do no more than cite one striking 
circumstance in its history, from the classic biography 
by Scott's son-in-law, Lockhart — a passage that may 
fairly be said to stand alone in the annals of martial 
poetry : " In the course of the day when ' The Lady 
of the Lake ' first reached Sir Adam Fergusson, he 
was posted with his company on a point of ground ex- 
posed to the enemy's artillery, somewhere no doubt 
on the line of Torres Vedras. The men were ordered 
to lie prostrate on the ground ; while they kept that 
attitude, the captain, kneeling at the head, read aloud 
the description of the battle in Canto VL, and the lis- 
tening soldiers only interrupted him by a joyous huzza, 
Avhen the French shot struck the bank close above 
them." That was a test of power to seize and hold 
the imagination which few poems have been called 
upon to stand. 

We must not let ourselves forget that Sir Walter 
himself said : ^' Author as I am, I wish these good 
people would recollect that I began with being a gen- 
tleman, and don't mean to give up the character." 
Let us see, then, what he was doing with the more 
personal part of his life. After a disappointment in 
love which he could never quite forget, he married, in 
1797, a Miss Charpentier, the daughter of a French 
refugee, a woman of beauty and spirit and good feel- 
ing, but without the depth of nature which the wife 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xi 

of Sir Walter should have possessed. From 1798 to 
1804 his home was at Lasswade, about six miles from 
Edinburgh, except for sojourns in the city itself. As 
Sheriff of Selkirkshire, it became evident that he must 
live within his district, and in 1804 he moved to 
Ashestiel, seven miles from Selkirk, the nearest town. 
Here he lived in an attractive house owned by a relative, 
indulged his outdoor tastes of riding, coursing, and sal- 
mon-spearing by night, made many pets of horses and 
dogs, who never in turn had a more sympathetic master, 
and worked all the while at his writing with a zeal of 
which the records seem barely credible. The poems of 
which Ave have already spoken were but a trifling part 
of what he did at this time. A " Life of Dryden," 
with a careful edition of his works in eighteen volumes, 
" Somers's Collection of Tracts," in thirteen volumes, 
" The Secret History of the Court of James I." — 
these were but a few of the literary undertakings to 
which he gave his energy. 

It was in 1805 that Sir Walter took the first step 
that led to the disasters of his fortune. He became 
the silent partner of James Ballantyne, an old school- 
friend, in a printing-house through which he hoped to 
reap more directly than by the ordinary means the 
profits of his labors. It would have been prejudicial to 
his standing, professional and social, if his connection 
with a business enterprise had been publicly known. 



xii SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

In 1809 he made the still greater blunder of enlarging 
the scheme by forming with James Ballantyne and his 
brother John a general publishing and book-selling 
firm under the name of John Ballantyne & Co. The 
three partners managed to combine in themselves every 
element of unfitness for such an undertaking. James 
Ballantyne, an excellent printer, was incompetent for 
the responsibilities of large publishing ; his brother 
John, who never had much of Sir Walter's respect, 
but amused him under the nickname of " Rigdumfun- 
nidos," was dissipated and of small calibre in every 
way ; and Scott himself, though richly gifted with the 
capital of creative power which was to be the firm's 
one strength, had poor judgment in the selection of 
books to publish, being all too ready to try the poor 
work of personal friends, and the more dangerous 
habit of spending money before it was earned, so con- 
fident had his successes made him of earning it. Buin 
was sure to come of it all, and come it did, though the 
assistance of the greater Edinburgh publisher, Consta- 
ble, and the popularity of the Waverley novels de- 
ferred it for a season. 

The seeds of the trouble had not been long planted 
when Scott, having come into a legal post of larger 
salary than he had received as sheriff, and sure of the 
commercial success of his literary ventures, purchased 
and moved to Abbotsford in 1812. It was a far finer 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xiil 

place than Ashestiel, five miles above it on the 
Tweed, and here Sir Walter entered with enthusiasm 
upon his favorite project of fixing the family of Scott 
upon a basis of dignity such as his pride of blood led 
him to think it deserved. The house was spacious and 
beautiful ; the hospitality of its owner, like the pleasure 
he took in his grounds and trees, his sports and his 
labors, was unbounded. Before leaving Ashestiel he 
had added " Don Eoderick," " The Bridal of Trier- 
main," and a part of ^^ Eokeby " to the poems already 
mentioned. Early in his life at Abbotsford he finished 
''Rokeby," and wrote ^^The Lord of the Isles " (1815) 
and " Harold the Dauntless " (1817). But it is with 
the Waverley novels that the period of Abbotsford is 
especially associated. 

'^ Waverley " had been begun in 1805, and laid aside, 
upon the discouragement of a friend, after three chap- 
ters had been written. In 1814 Sir Walter chanced 
upon the manuscript, and thinking the story might 
bring in some of the funds of which John Ballantyne 
& Co. had begun to stand in sore need, he finished it 
in four weeks of hard writing. It is not yet perfectly 
clear why he published it anonymously, and maintained 
the same mystery about the novels that followed it. 
Amongst his friends it was an open secret that Sir 
Walter was the author, but every expedient, even to 
his own reviewing of his work, was used to befool the 



XIV SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

public. The hardest pomt to understand was how any 
human being who was writing so much, as historian, 
critic, and editor, over his own name, could be also 
producing in rapid succession the Waveriey novels. 
His amazing industry and the fund of knowledge upon 
^vhich he could draw at any moment were the unknown 
elements of this great productive poAver. Lockhart 
tells a story of which it is well to repeat the final part 
before we see with what rapidity the Waveriey novels 
followed one another. It tells of a gay company of 
young men, one of whom, sitting and looking at a win- 
dow across the street in Edinburgh, lost all heart in the 
frolic about him, and appeared as if unwell. " ' There 
is a confounded hand in sight of me here,' he said, 
' which has often bothered me before, and now it won't 
let me fill my glass with a good-will.' I rose to 
change places with him accordingly, and he pointed 
out to me this hand, which, like the writing on Bel- 
shazzar's wall, disturbed his hour of hilarity. ' Since 
we sat down,' he said, ' I have been watching it — it 
fascinates my eye — it never stops — page after page 
is finished, and thrown on that heap of MS., and still 
it goes on unwearied ; and so it will be till candles are 
brought in, and God knows how long after that. It 
is the same every night — I can't stand a sight of it 
when I am not at my books.' ' Some stupid, dogged 
engrossing clerk, probably,' exclaimed myself, or some 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xv 

other giddy youth in our society. ^ No, boys/ said 
our host ; ' I well know what hand it is — 't is Wal- 
ter Scott's ! ' " 

In the same week with " Waverley" appeared an- 
other labor of this hand, the edition of Swift in nine- 
teen volumes. Treatises on romance, chivalry, and the 
drama, besides two volumes dealing with Border anti- 
quities, were published in the same year. The next 
year, 1815, was perhaps equally full of achievement. 
^'Guy Mannering," written in ^^six weeks about 
Christmas," appeared in the winter, and various other 
books before the year was gone. In 1816, " The Anti- 
quary," '' The Black Dwarf," and '' Old Mortality " 
were added to the Waverley novels, and much other 
work was done. 

After all this it is not surprising to learn that Sir 
Walter's health rebelled against the strain he had put 
upon it. In 1817 he had the first of a series of excru- 
ciating cramps, constantly recurring through two years. 
Nevertheless, in the first year of this agony he fin- 
ished " Bob Boy," and soon after it '' The Heart of 
Midlothian." The next three novels, "The Bride of 
Lammermoor," ^^ The Legend of Montrose," and 
•'Ivanhoe," were written at his dictation, while he 
was suffering such pain that, for all his courage, he 
could not help screaming aloud. But he had the 
doors shut fast, that no one but he and his faithful ser- 
vant, Willie Laidlaw, might hear his cries. 



xvi SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

When the two years of severest illness were passed, 
his work went on with extraordinary speed, and though 
there were murmurings from time to time that he was 
doing too much to do his best, his popularity and 
prosperity kept pace with his performances. The mys- 
tery which made people call the author of the Waverley 
novels " The Great Unknown " no doubt contributed 
its share to their success. Fame enough he had with- 
out claiming the novels, as the tale of one uncomfort- 
able experience will show : ^^ On one occasion a 
mighty package came by post from the United States, 
for which Scott had to pay five pounds sterling. It 
contained a MS. play called ' The Cherokee Lovers,' 
by a young lady of New York, who begged Scott to 
read and correct it, write a prologue and epilogue, get 
it put on the stage at Drury Lane, and negotiate with 
Constable or Murray for the copyright. In about a 
fortnight another packet not less formidable arrived, 
charged with a similar postage, which Scott, not grown 
cautious through experience, recklessly opened ; out 
jumped a duplicate copy of ^The Cherokee Lovers,' 
with a second letter from the authoress, stating that as 
the weather had been stormy, and she feared that 
something might have happened to her former MS., 
she had thought it prudent to send him a duplicate.'' 

The fruits of his fame were usually more sweet. 
Troops of friends surrounded him at Abbotsford, where 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xvii 

the beautifying of house and grounds was one of his 
constant sources of pleasure, and, be it said also, one of 
the constant drains upon his income, frequently spent, 
as was now his confirmed habit, in the knowledge that 
his books were sure to yield enormous profit, before it 
was really earned. It is easy to believe, too, that Sir 
Walter took great satisfaction in being the first baronet 
of George IV/s making when he came to the throne. 
Strong Tory as he was, he had taken every opportunity 
to show his loyalty to that monarch during his long 
regency, and King George, whatever his follies, had 
grace and wit enough to put a true value on his sub- 
ject's worth, and to distinguish him by special favor of 
friendship, and the baronetcy-. 

But the end of Sir Walter's prosperity was fore- 
doomed. The publishing business into which he had 
entered was hopelessly involved by its unwise ventures, 
and by the reckless spending of its profits without a 
close scrutiny of its accounts. John Ballantyne's dis- 
sipations and Sir Walter's own extravagance were more 
than a business so insecurely founded could stand. 
The failure of a London house, with which the affairs 
of Ballantyne & Co., through those of Constable & Co., 
were entangled, brought the whole wretched business 
to a crisis, and Sir Walter found himself confronted 
with a personal responsibility of £117,000. This was 
in 182G. 



xviii SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

It was his pride that suffered most keenly under the 
shock of financial failure, and it was his pride that, 
without a day's delay, set him to work at the heroic 
effort to wipe out the debt. " Woodstock " had been 
begun, and immediately he took it up, and doggedly 
went on with its composition, entering in his diary, 
only a day or two later, the words from Job : " Naked 
we entered the world, and naked we leave it ; blessed 
be the name of the Lord." Within a short time his 
wife died, and other bereavements befell him, but ask- 
ing his creditors no favor but that of time, and cutting 
down in every possible way his expenses of living, he 
toiled on in failing health and unfaltering courage. 
In three years he had finished " Woodstock," the 
" Chronicles of the Canongate," '' The Fair Maid of 
Perth," ^^Anne of Geierstein," the ^^Life of Napo- 
leon," part of the '' History of Scotland," and the 
" Tales of a Grandfather." In two years his creditors 
had received £40,000. 

But it was not in human power for a man to en- 
dure such labors. Between 1829 and 1831 successive 
strokes of paralysis and apoplexy impaired his strength 
to a degree which would have stopped most men from 
all endeavor. Not so Sir Walter ; in 1831, " Count 
Robert of Paris " and " Castle Dangerous " were ready 
for the printer, and other undertakings had been fin- 
ished. At the last it was only the mental hallucina- 



BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. xix 

tion that all his debts had been paid that made him 
yield to the urging of his friends to try a change of 
scene. A government vessel, placed at his disposal, 
carried him to the Mediterranean, and for nearly a year 
he sought his lost health in foreign lands. It was in 
vain, and borne back to his beloved Abbotsford, he 
died there on September 21, 1832. 

No story of Scott's life would be complete without 
Lockhart's account of the ending of it — one of the 
most beautiful passages in biography. Called to Sir 
Walter's bedside, Lockhart " found him entirely him- 
self, though in the last extreme of feebleness. His eye 
was clear and calm — every trace of the wild fire of 
delirium extinguished. ^ Lockhart,' he said, ' I may 
have but a minute to speak to you. My dear, be a good 
man — be virtuous — be religious — be a good man. 
Nothing else will give you any comfort when you 
come to lie here.' He paused, and I said, ' Shall 
I send for Sophia and Anne ? ' ^ No,' said he, 
'don't disturb them, poor souls ! I know they were 
up all night — God bless you all ! ' With this he 
sunk into a very tranquil sleep, and, indeed, he scarcely 
afterwards gave any sign of consciousness, except for 
an instant on the arrival of his sons. . . . About half 
past one p. m., on the 21st of September, Sir Walter 
breathed his last, in the presence of all his children. 
It was a beautiful day — so warm that every window 



XX SIR WALTER SCOTT. 

was wide open — and so perfectly still that the sound 
of all others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple 
of the Tweed over its pebbles, was distinctly audible 
as we knelt around the bed, and his eldest son kissed 
and closed his eyes.'' 

" I care not if I leave my name unstained «ind my 
family property settled ! " Sir Walter had once written 
in his diary. Whatever stain his name had received 
was cleansed to whiteness by his last years of heroism, 
and the family property, through the copyrights on 
his books, was freed of every debt in fifteen years after 
his death. The only debt in which his name has 
since been concerned is the world's debt to him, for 
standing beside Burns as the spokesman of his people, 
for giving mankind in poem and novel enduring delight 
and profit, and for enriching the world with the mem- 
ory of a man as true and brave as his own best hero. 

Note. — Lockhart's Life of Scott is the biography from which 
all thorough knowledge of him must be gained. Sir Walter Scott, 
by Richard H. Hutton, a vohime in the English Men of Letters 
Series, to which the writer of the foregoing sketch is also largely 
indebted, is an admirable shorter work. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE 



TO, 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE 



After the success of ^' Marmion/^ I felt inclined 
to exclaim with Uljsses in the " Odyssey/^ — 

OSros fi^v dr] d'e^Xos ddaros iKTeriXecrTac. 
NOj' aSre ffKOirov (itWov. 

*' One venturous game my hand has won to-day ; 
Another, gallants, yet remains to play." 

Odyssey, x- 1* 5« 

The ancient manners, the habits and customs of 
the aboriginal race by whom the Highlands of Scot- 
land were inhabited, had always appeared to me 
peculiarly adapted to poetry. The change in their 
manners, too, had taken place almost within my own 
time; or at least I had learned many particulars 



xxii AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

concerning the ancient state of the Highlands from 
the old men of the last generation. I had always 
thought the old Scottish Gael highly adapted for 
poetical composition. The feuds and political dissen- 
sions which half a century earlier would have rendered 
the richer and wealthier part of the kingdom indis- 
posed to countenance a poem the scene of which 
was laid in the Highlands, were now sunk in the 
generous compassion which the English, more than 
any other nation, feel for the misfortunes of an hon- 
orable foe. The Poems of Ossian had, by their popu- 
larity, sufficiently shown that if writings on Highland 
subjects were qualified to interest the reader, mere 
national prejudices were, in the present day, very 
unlikely to interfere with their success. 

I had also read a great deal, seen much, and heard 
more, of that romantic country, where I w^as in the 
habit of spending some time every autumn; and 
the scenery of Loch Katrine was connected with the 
recollection of many a dear friend and merry expe- 
dition of former days. This poem, the action of 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE, xxiii 

which lay among scenes so beautiful and so deeply 
imprinted on my recollections, was a labor of love ; 
and it was no less so to recall the manners and inci- 
dents introduced. The frequent custom of James IV. 
and particularly of James V. to walk through their 
kingdom in disguise afforded me the hint of an inci- 
dent which never fails to be interesting if managed 
with the slightest address or dexterity. 

I may now confess, however, that the employment, 
though attended with great pleasure, was not with- 
out its doubts and anxieties. A lady to whom I 
was nearly related, and with whom I lived during 
her whole life on the most brotherly terms of affec- 
tion, was residing with me at the time when the work 
was in progress, and used to ask me what I could 
possibly do to rise so early in the morning (that 
happening to be the most convenient time to me for 
composition) . At last I told her the subject of my 
meditations ; and I can never forget the anxiety 
and affection expressed in her reply. "Do not be 
so rash,'^ she said, "my dearest cousin. You are 



xxiv AUTHOR'S PREFACK 

already popular, — more so, perhaps, than you your- 
self will believe, or than even I or other partial 
friends can fairly allow to your merit. You stand 
high; do not rashly attempt to climb higher, and 
incur the risk of a fall, — for, depend upon it, a 
favorite will not be permitted even to stumble with 
impunity/^ I replied to this affectionate expos- 
tulation in the words of Montrose, — 

" * He either fears bis fate too much, 
Or his deserts are small, 
Who dares not put it to the touch 
To gain or lose it aU.' 

If I fail,^^ I said, — for the dialogue is strong in my 
recollection, — " it is a sign that I ought never to 
have succeeded, and I will write prose for life ; you 
shall see no change in my temper, nor will I eat a 
single meal the worse. But if I succeed. 

Up with the bonnie blue bonnet, 
The dirk, and the feather, and a' ! '* 

Afterwards I showed my affectionate and anxious 
critic the first canto of the poem, which reconciled 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE. xxv 

her to my imprudence. Nevertheless, although I 
answered thus confidently, with the obstinacy often 
said to be proper to those who bear my surname, 
I acknowledge that my confidence was considerably 
shaken by the warning of her excellent taste and 
unbiassed friendship. Nor was I much comforted 
by her retractation of the unfavorable judgment, 
when I recollected how likely a natural partiality 
was to effect that change of opinion. In such cases 
affection rises like a light on the canvas, improves 
any favorable tints which it formerly exhibited, and 
throws its defects into the shade. 

I remember that about the same time a friend 
started in to " heeze up my hope,^^ like the " sports- 
man with his cutty gun,^^ in the old song. He was 
bred a farmer, but a man of powerful understand- 
ing, natural good taste, and warm poetical feeling, 
perfectly competent to supply the wants of an im- 
perfect or irregular education. He was a passion- 
ate admirer of field-sports, which we often pursued 
together. 



xxvi AUTHORS PREFACE. 

As this friend happened to dine with me at Ash- 
esteil one day, I took the opportunity of reading to 
him the first canto of " The Lady of the Lake/' in 
order to ascertain the effect the poem was likely to 
produce upon a person who was but too favorable 
a representative of readers at large. It is of course 
to be supposed that I determined rather to guide my 
opinion by what my friend might appear to feel than 
by what he might think fit to say. His reception 
of my recitation, or prelection, was rather singular. 
He placed his hand across his brow, and listened 
with great attention through the whole account of 
the stag-hunt, till the dogs threw themselves into 
the lake to follow their master, who embarks with 
Ellen Douglas. He then started up with a sudden 
exclamation, struck his hand on the table, and de- 
clared, in a voice of censure calculated for the occa- 
sion, that the dogs must have been totally ruined by 
being permitted to take the water after such a severe 
chase. I own I was much encouraged by the species 
of reverie which had possessed so zealous a follower 



AUTHORS PREFACE. xxvii 

of the sports of the ancient Nimrod, who had been 
completely surprised out of all doubts of the reality 
of the tale. Another of his remarks gave me less 
pleasure. He detected the identity of the King 
with the wandering knight, Fitz-James, when he 
winds his bugle to summon his attendants. He was 
probably thinking of the lively but somewhat licen- 
tious old ballad in which the denouement of a royal 
intrigue takes place as follows : — 

" He took a bugle frae his side. 
He blew both loud and shrill, 
And four-and-twenty belted knights 

Came skipping ower the hill ; 
Then he took out a little knife. 

Let a' his duddies fa'. 
And he was the brawest gentleman 
That was amang them a'. 

And we'll go no more a-roving," etc. 

This discovery, as Mr. Pepys says of the rent in 
his camlet cloak, was but a trifle, yet it troubled 
me ; and I was at a good deal of pains to efface 
any marks by which I thought my secret could be 



xxviii AUTHORS PREFACE. 

traced before the conclusion^ when I relied on it 
with the same hope of producing effect with which 
the Irish post-boy is said to reserve a " trot for the 
avenue/'' 

I took uncommon pains to verify the accuracy of 
the local circumstances of this story. I recollect, 
in particular, that to ascertain whether I was telling 
a probable tale, I went into Perthshire to see whether 
King James could actually have ridden from the 
banks of Loch Vennachar to Stirling Castle within 
the time supposed in the poem, and had the pleasure 
to satisfy myself that it was quite practicable. 

After a considerable delay, "The Lady of the 
Lake^' appeared in June, 1810; and its success 
was certainly so extraordinary as to induce me for 
the moment to conclude that I had at last fixed a 
nail in the proverbially inconstant wheel of Fortune, 
whose stability in behalf of an individual who had 
so boldly courted her favors for three successive 
times had not as yet been shaken. I had attained 
perhaps that degree of public reputation at which 



AUTHORS PREFACK xxix 

prudence, or certainly timidity, would have made 
a halt, and discontinued efforts by which I was far 
more likely to diminish my fame than to increase it. 
But as the celebrated John Wilkes is said to have 
explained to his late Majesty that he liimself, amid 
his full tide of popularity, was never a Wilkite, so 
I can, with honest truth, exculpate myself from hav- 
ing been at any time a partisan of my own poetry, 
even when it was in the highest fashion with the 
million. It must not be supposed that I was either 
so ungrateful or so superabundantly candid as to 
despise or scorn the value of those whose voice had 
elevated me so much higher than my own opinion 
told me I deserved. I felt, on the contrary, the 
more grateful to the public, as receiving that, from 
partiality to me, which I could not have claimed 
from merit ; and I endeavored to deserve the par- 
tiality by continuing such exertions as I was capable 
of for their amusement. 

It may be that I did not, in this continued course 
of scribbling, consult either the interest of the pub- 



XXX AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

lie or my own. But the former had effectual means 
of defending themselves, and could by their coldness 
sufficiently check any approach to intrusion ; and for 
myself, I had now for several years dedicated my 
hours so much to literary labor, that I should have 
felt difficulty in employing myself otherwise; and 
so, like Dogberry, I generously bestowed all my 
tediousness on the public, comforting myself with 
the reflection that if posterity should think me un- 
deserving of the favor with which I was regarded 
by my contemporaries, "they could not but say I 
had the crown,^^ and had enjoyed for a time that 
popularity which is so much coveted. 

I conceived, however, that I held the distinguished 
situation I had obtained, however unworthily, rather 
like the champion of pugilism,^ on the condition 



^ " In twice five years the ' greatest living poet,' 
Like to the champion in the fisty ring. 
Is called on to suppoi-t his claim, or show it. 
Although 't is an imaginary thing," etc. 

I)o7i Juan, canto xi. st. 55. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE. xxxi 

of being always ready to show proofs of my skill, 
than in the manner of the champion of chivalry, 
who performs his duties only on rare and solemn 
occasions. I was in any case conscious that I could 
not long hold a situation which the caprice, rather 
than the judgment, of the public had bestowed upon 
me, and preferred being deprived of my precedence 
by some more worthy rival, to sinking into contempt 
for my indolence, and losing my reputation by what 
Scottish lawyers call the negative prescription. Ac- 
cordingly, those who choose to look at the Introduc- 
tion to " Eokeby,^^ in the present edition, will be 
able to trace the steps by which I declined as a poet 
to figure as a novelist; as the ballad says. Queen 
Eleanor sunk at Charing-Cross to rise again at 
Queenhithe. 

It only remains for me to say that during my 
short pre-emmence of popularity I faithfully ob- 
served the rules of moderation which I had resolved 
to follow before I began my course as a man of 
letters. If a man is determined to make a noise in 



xxxii AUTHOR'S PREFACE. 

the world,, he is as sure to encounter abuse and ridi- 
cule as he who gallops furiously through a village 
must reckon on being followed by the curs in full 
cry. Experienced persons know that in stretching 
to flog the latter, the rider is very apt to catch a 
bad fall ; nor is an attempt to chastise a malignant 
critic attended with less danger to the author. On 
this principle, I let parody, burlesque, and squibs find 
their own level; and while the latter hissed most 
fiercely, I was cautious never to catch them up, as 
schoolboys do, to throw them back against the 
naughty boy who fired them off, wisely remember- 
ing that they are, in such cases, apt to explode in 
the handling. Let me add that my reign ^ (since 
Byron has so called it) was marked by some instan- 
ces of good-nature as well as patience. I never 
refused a literary person of merit such services in 
smoothing his way to the public as were in my 



^ " Sir Walter reigned before," etc. 

Bon Juan, canto xi. st. 57. 



AUTHOR'S PREFACE. xxxiii 

power ; and I had the advantage — rather an uncom- 
mon one with our irritable race — to enjoy general 
favor without incurring permanent ill-will, so far as 
is known to me, among any of my contemporaries. 

W. S. 
Abbotsfoed, April, 1830. 



JLifit Of EUtt£;trattons. 



Half Title to Canto First. — Saint Fillan's Hill 

" The wild heaths of Uam-Var" 41 

The Brigg of Turk. — From the North .... 44 

" In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook " 47 

[Benvenue, from the Trosachs' road.] 

Ellen's Isle .... 52 

" In listening mood, she seemed to stand. 
The guardian Naiad of the strand " 55 

" His stately mien as well implied 
A high-born heart, a martial pride " 59 

" At length, with Ellen in a grove 
He seemed to walk and speak of love " 71 



xxxvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Hajlf Title to Canto Second. — Loch Katrine : 

The Strand 17 

" Soothing she answered him : * Assuage, 
Mine honored friend, the fears of age' " 85 

" Bracklinn's thundering wave " 91 

" And near, and nearer as they rowed, 
Distinct the martial ditty flowed " 96 

[Brianchoil Point.] 

" And, at her whistle, on her hand 
The falcon took his favorite stand" 100 

" Then plunged he in the flashing tide " 114 



Half Title to Canto Third. — In Leny Pass . . 119 

" Brian the Hermit by it stood. 
Barefooted, in his frock and hood *' 124 

•' Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew " . . . , . 131 

[Ben-an, from Loch Katrine.] 



Half Title to Canto Fourth. — Achray Water: 

The Eord .155 

Up Glenfinlas . . 158 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xxxvii 

Ruins of Doune Castle. — From the Ardoch . . 164 

" Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
Believe it when it augurs cheer " 168 

" Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 
Each guard and usher knows the sign " 177 

" With cautious step and ear awake. 
He climbs the crag and threads the brake *' . . . 188 

Half Title to Canto Fifth. — Coilantogle Eord . 195 
Stirling Castle 202 

" Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 
On Bochastle the mouldering lines " 210 

"Unbonneted, and by the wave 
Sat down hi^ brow and hands to lave "..... 216 

*' Gray Stirling, with her towers and town. 
Upon their fleet career looked down " 224 

Half Title to Canto Sixth. — The Dungeon Gate . 237 

" Boldly she spoke : ' Soldiers, attend ! 
My father was the soldier's friend ' " 245 



xxxviu LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 

" Where shall he find, in foreign land. 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! '* 255 

" Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
That deep and doubling pass within " 260 

[The Pass of Beal-an-duine.] 

** On many a splendid garb she gazed, — 
Then turned bewildered and amazed " 269 



AEGUMENT. 



The scene of the following Poem is laid chiefly in the 
vicinity of Loch Katrine, in the Western Highlands of Perth- 
shire. The time of Action includes Six Days, and the trans- 
actions of each Day occupy a Canto. 



CANTO FIRST. 

THE CHASE. 



The chase 




SAINT FILLAN'S HILL 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



CANTO FIRST. 



THE CHASE. 



Harp of the North ! that mouldering- long hast hung 

On the witch-elm that shades Saint Pillan's spring, 
And down the fitful breeze thy numbers flung, 

Till envious ivy did around thee cling, 
Muffling with verdant ringlet every string, — 

O Minstrel Harp, still must thine accents sleep ? 
Mid rustling leaves and fountains murmuring, 

Still must thy sweeter sounds their silence keep, 
Nor bid a warrior smile, nor teach a maid to weep ? 

Not thus, in ancient days of Caledon, 

Was thy voice mute amid the festal crowd, 
When lay of hopeless love, or glory won, 

Aroused the fearful or subdued the proud. 
At each according pause was heard aloud 

Thine ardent symphony sublime and high ! 
Fair dames and crested chiefs attention bowed ; 

For still tlie burden of thy minstrelsy 
Was Knighthood's dauntless deed, and Beauty's matchless 
eye. 



40 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Oh, wake once more ! how rude soe'er the hand 

That ventures o'er thy magic maze to stray ; 
. Oh, wake once more ! though scarce my skill command 

Some feeble echoing of thine earlier lay : 
Though harsh and faint, and soon to die away, 

And all unworthy of thy nobler strain, 
Yet if one heart throb higher at its sway, 

The wizard note has not been touched in vain. 
Then silent be no more ! Enchantress, wake again ! 



The stag at eve had drunk his fill, 

Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, 

And deep his midnight lair had made 

In lone Glenartney's hazel shade ; 

But when the sun his beacon red 

Had kindled on Benvoirlich's head. 

The deep-mouthed bloodhoimd's heavy bay 

Resounded up the rocky way. 

And faint, from farther distance borne. 

Were heard the clanging hoof and horn. 

II. 

As Chief, who hears his warder call, 
" To arms ! the foemen storm the wall," 
The antlered monarch of the waste 
Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. 
But ere his fleet career he took, 
The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; 



THE CHASE. 



41 



Like crested leader proud and high 
Tossed his beamed frontlet to the sky 
A moment gazed adown the dale, 
A moment snuffed the tainted gale, 





A moment listened to the cry, 
That thickened as the chase drew nigh ; 
Then, as the headmost foes appeared. 
With one brave bound the copse he cleared, 



42 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And, stretcliing forward free and far, 
Sought the wild heaths of Uam-Var. 



III. 

Yelled on the view the opening pack ; 
Rock, glen, and cavern paid them back; 
To many a mingled sound at once 
The awakened mountain gave response. 
A hundred dogs bayed deep and strong, 
Clattered a hundred steeds along, 
Their peal the merry horns rung out, 
A hundred voices joined the shout ; 
With hark and whoop and wild halloo, 
No rest Benvoirlich's echoes knew. 
Far from the tumult fled the roe, 
Close in her covert cowered the doe, 
The falcon, from her cairn on high. 
Cast on the rout a wondering eye, 
Till far beyond her piercing ken 
The hurricane had swept the glen. 
Faint, and more faint, its failing din 
Returned from cavern, cliff, and linn. 
And silence settled, wide and still, 
On the lone wood and mighty hill. 



IV. 

Less loud the sounds of sylvan war 
Disturbed the heights of Uam-Var, 



THE CHASE. 43 

And roused the cavern where, 't is told, 
A giant made his den of old ; 
For ere that steep ascent was won, 
High in his pathway hung the sun, 
And many a gallant, stayed perforce. 
Was fain to breathe his faltering horse. 
And of the trackers of the deer 
Scarce half the lessening pack was near ; 
So shrewdly on the mountain-side 
Had the bold burst their mettle tried. 



V. 

The noble stag was pausing now 
Upon the mountain's southern brow, 
Where broad extended, far beneath, 
The varied realms of fair Menteith. 
With anxious eye he wandered o'er 
Mountain and meadow, moss and moor, 
And pondered refuge from his toil. 
By far Lochard or Aberfoyle. 
But nearer was the copsewood gray 
That waved and wept on Loch Achray, 
And mingled with the pine-trees blue 
On the bold cliffs of Benvenue. 
Fresh vigor with the hope returned, 
With flying foot the heath he spurned, 
Held westward with unwearied race. 
And left beiiind the panting chase. 



44 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 




VI. 

*T were long to tell what steeds gave o'er. 
As swept the hunt through Cambusmore ; 
What reins were tightened in despair. 
When rose Benledi's ridge in air ; 
Who flagged upon Bochastle's heath. 
Who shunned to stem the flooded Teith, - 



THE CHASE. 45 

For twice that day, from sliore to shore, 
The gallant stag swam stoutly o'er. 
Pew were the stragglers, following far, 
That reached the lake of Vennachar ; 
And when the Brigg of Turk was won. 
The headmost horseman rode alone. 

VII. 

Alone, but with unbated zeal. 

That horseman plied the scourge and steel ; 

For jaded now, and spent with toil. 

Embossed with foam, and dark with soil. 

While every gasp with sobs he drew, 

The laboring stag strained full in view. 

Two dogs of black Saint Hubert's breed. 

Unmatched for courage, breath, and speed, 

Fast on his flying traces came. 

And all but won t;hat desperate game; 

For, scarce a spear's length from his haunch, 

Vindictive toiled the bloodhounds stanch ; 

Nor nearer might the dogs attain, 

Nor farther might the quarry strain. 

Thus up the margin of the lake. 

Between the precipice and brake, 

O'er stock and rock their race they take. 

VIII. 

The Hunter marked that mountain high, 
The lone lake's western boundary, 



46 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And deemed the stag must turn to bay, 
Where that huge rampart barred the way ; 
Ah'eady glorying in the prize, 
Measured his antlers with his eyes ; 
For the death-wound and death-halloo 
Mustered his breath, his whinyard drew : — 
But thundering as he came prepared, 
With ready arm and weapon bared. 
The wily quarry shunned the shock, 
And turned him from the opposing rock ; 
Then, dashing down a darksome glen, 
Soon lost to hound and Hunter's ken. 
In the deep Trosachs' wildest nook 
His solitary refuge took. 
There, while close couched the thicket shed 
Cold dews and wild flowers on his head. 
He heard the baffled dogs in vain 
Eave through the hollow pass amain, 
Chiding the rocks that yelled again. 



IX. 

Close on the hounds the Hunter came. 
To cheer them on the vanished game ; 
But, stumbling in the rugged dell, 
The gallant horse exhausted fell. 
The impatient rider strove in vain 
To rouse him with the spur and rein. 
For the good steed, his labors o'er, 
Stretched his stiff limbs, to rise no more ; 



THE CHASE. 



47 



Then, touched with pity and remorse, 
He sorrowed o'er the expiring horse. 
" I little thought, when first thy rein 




I slacked upon the banks of Seine, 
That Highland eagle e'er should feed 
On thy fleet limbs, my matchless steed ! 



4^8 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Woe worth the chase, woe worth the day, 
That costs thy life, my gallant gray! " 



X. 

Then through the dell his horn resounds, 
From vain pursuit to call the hounds. 
Back limped, with slow and crippled pace, 
The sulky leaders of the chase ; 
Close to their master's side they pressed, 
With drooping tail and humbled crest; 
But still the dingle's hollow throat 
Prolonged the swelling bugle-note. 
The owlets started from their dream, 
The eagles answered with their scream, 
Eound and around the sounds were cast, 
Till echo seemed an answering blast ; 
And on the Hunter hied his way. 
To join some comrades of the day, 
Yet often paused, so strange the road. 
So wondrous were the scenes it showed. 



XI. 

The western waves of ebbing day 
Eolled o'er the glen their level way ; 
Each purple peak, each flinty spire. 
Was bathed in floods of living fire. 
But not a setting beam could glow 
Within the dark ravines below, 



THE CHASE. 49 

Where twined the path in shadow hid, 

Round many a rocky pyramid, 

Shooting abruptly from the dell 

Its thunder-splintered pinnacle ; 

Eound many an insulated mass, 

The native bulwarks of the pass, 

Huge as the tower which builders vain 

Presumptuous piled on Shinar's plain. 

The rocky summits, split and rent. 

Formed turret, dome, or battlement. 

Or seemed fantastically set 

With cupola or minaret. 

Wild crests as pagod ever decked, 

Or mosque of Eastern architect. 

Nor were these earth-born castles bare. 

Nor lacked they many a banner fair ; 

For, from their shivered brows displayed, 

Far o'er the unfathomable glade, 

All twinkling withrthe dewdrop sheen. 

The brier-rose fell in streamers green, 

And creeping shrubs of thousand dyes 

Waved in the west- wind's summer sighs. 



XII. 

Boon nature scattered, free and wild. 
Each plant or flower, the mountain's child. 
Here eglantine embalmed the air. 
Hawthorn and hazel mingled there ; 
The primrose pale and violet flower 



50 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Found in each clift a narrow bower; 
Foxglove and nightshade, side by side, 
Emblems of punishment and pride, 
Grouped their dark hues with every stain 
The weather-beaten crags retain. 
With boughs that quaked at every breath, 
Gray birch and aspen wept beneath ; 
Aloft, the ash and warrior oak 
Cast anchor in the rifted rock ; 
And, higher yet, the pine-tree hung 
His shattered trunk, and frequent flung, 
Where seemed the cliffs to meet on high. 
His boughs athwart the narrowed sky. 
Highest of all, where white peaks glanced. 
Where glistening streamers waved and danced, 
The wanderer's eye coidd barely view 
The summer heaven's delicious blue ; 
So wondrous wild, the whole might seem 
The scenery of a fairy dream. 



XIII. 

Onward, amid the copse 'gan peep 
A narrow inlet, still and deep, 
Aftbrding scarce such breadth of brim 
As served the wild duck's brood to swim. 
Lost for a space, through thickets veering. 
But broader when again appearing, 
Tall rocks and tufted knolls their face 
Could on the dark-blue mirror trace : 



THE CEASE. 51 

And farther as the Hunter strayed. 
Still broader sweep its channels made. 
The shaggy mounds no longer stood, 
Emerging from entangled wood. 
But, wave-encircled, seemed to float, 
Like castle girdled with its moat ; 
Yet broader floods extending still 
Divide them from their parent hill. 
Till each, retiring, claims to be 
An islet in an inland sea. 



XIV. 

And now, to issue from the glen. 

No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, 

Unless he climb with footing nice 

A far-projecting precipice. 

The broom's tough roots his ladder made, 

The hazel saplings lent their aid; 

And thus an airy point he won, 

Where, gleaming with the setting sun. 

One burnished sheet of living gold, 

Loch Katrine lay beneath him rolled, 

In all her length far winding lay. 

With promontory, creek, and bay. 

And islands that, empurpled bright, 

Ploated amid the livelier light. 

And mountains that like giants stand 

To sentinel enchanted land. 

High on the south, huge Benvenue 



sa 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 




Down to the lake in masses threw 

Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, 

The fragments of an earlier world ; 

A wildering' forest feathered o'er 

His ruined sides and summit hoar, 

While on the north, through middle air, 

Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. 



THE CHASE. 53 



XV. 

From the steep promontory gazed 

The stranger, raptured and amazed, 

And, " What a scene were here," he cried, 

" For princely pomp or churchman's pride ! 

On this bold brow, a lordly tower ; 

In that soft vale, a lady's bower ; 

On yonder meadow far away, 

The turrets of a cloister gray ; 

How blithely might the bugle-horn 

Chide on the lake the lingering morn ! 

How sweet at eve the lover's lute 

Chime when the groves were still and mute ! 

And when the midnight moon should lave 

Her forehead in the silver wave, 

How solemn on the ear would come 

The holy matins' distant hum, 

While the deep peal's commanding tone 

Should wake, in yonder islet lone, 

A sainted hermit from his cell, 

To drop a bead with every knell ! 

And bugle, lute, and bell, and all, 

Should each bewildered stranger call 

To friendly feast and lighted hall. 



XVI. 

" Blithe were it then to wander here ! 
But now — beshrew yon nimble deer 



54 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Like that same hermit's, thin and spare, 
The copse must give my evening fare ; 
Some mossy bank my couch must be. 
Some rustling oak my canopy. 
Yet pass we that ; the war and chase 
Grive little choice of resting-place; — 
A summer night in greenwood spent 
Were but to-morrow's merriment : 
But hosts may in these wilds abound, 
Such as are better missed than found ; 
To meet with Highland plunderers here 
Were worse than loss of steed or deer. — 
I am alone ; — my bugle-strain 
May call some straggler of the train ; 
Or, fall the worse that may betide. 
Ere now this falchion has been tried." 



XVII. 

But scarce again his horn he wound, 

When lo ! forth starting at the sound, 

Erom underneath an aged oak 

That slanted from the islet rock, 

A damsel guider of its way, 

A little skiff shot to the bay, 

That round the promontory steep 

Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 

Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 

The weeping Avillow twig to lave. 

And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, 



THE CHASE. 



55 




The beacli of pebbles bright as snow. 
The boat had touched this silver strand 
Jnst as the Hunter left his stand, 



56 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And stood concealed amid the brake, 

To view this Lady of the Lake. 

The maiden paused, as if again 

She thought to catch the distant strain. 

With head upraised, and look intent, 

And eye and ear attentive bent, 

And locks flung back, and lips apart, 

Like monument of Grecian art, 

Li listening mood, she seemed to stand, 

The guardian Naiad of the strand. 



xviir. 

And ne*er did Grecian chisel trace 

A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace, 

Of finer form or lovelier face ! 

What though the sun, with ardent frown. 

Had slightly tinged her cheek with brown, — 

The sportive toil, which, short and light. 

Had dyed her glowing hue so bright. 

Served too in hastier swell to show 

Short glimpses of a breast of snow : 

What though no rule of courtly grace 

To measured mood had trained her pace, — 

A foot more light, a step more true, 

Ne'er from the heath-flower dashed the dew ; 

E'en the slight harebell raised its head. 

Elastic from her airy tread : 

What though upon her speech there hung 

The accents of the mountain tongue, — 



THE CHASE. 57 



Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, 
The listener held his breath to hear ! 



XIX. 

A chieftain's daughter seemed the maid ; 

Her satin snood, her silkeu plaid. 

Her golden brooch, such birth betrayed. 

And seldom was a snood amid 

Such wild luxuriant ringlets hid, 

Whose glossy black to shame might bring 

The plumage of the raven's wing ; 

And seldom o'er a breast so fair 

Mantled a plaid with modest care, 

And never brooch the folds combined 

Above a heart more good and kind. 

Her kindness and her worth to spy. 

You need but gaze on Ellen's eye ; 

Not Katrine in Irex mirror blue 

Gives back the shaggy banks more true, 

Than every free-born glance confessed 

The guileless movements of her breast ; 

Whether joy danced in her dark eye, 

Or woe or pity claimed a sigh. 

Or filial love was glowing there, 

Or meek devotion poured a prayer, 

Or tale of injury called forth 

The indignant spirit of the North. 

One only passion unrevealed 

AVith maiden pride the maid concealed, 



68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Yet not less purely felt tlie flame ; — 
Oh, need I tell that passion's name ? 



XX. 

Impatient of the silent horn, 
Now on the gale her voice was borne : — 
" Father! " she cried ; the rocks around 
Loved to prolong the gentle sound. 
Awhile she paused, no answer came ; — 
" Malcolm, was thine the blast ? " the name 
Less resolutely uttered fell, 
The echoes could not catch the swell. 
" A stranger I," the Huntsman said, 
Advancing from the hazel sliade. 
The maid, alarmed, with hasty oar 
Pushed her light shallop from the shore 
And when a space was gained between. 
Closer sbe drew her bosom's screen ; — 
So forth the startled swan would swing. 
So turn to prune his ruffled wing. 
Then safe, though fluttered and amazed, 
She paused, and on the stranger gazed. 
Not his the form, nor his the eye, 
That youthful maidens wont to fly. 



XXI. 

On his bold visage middle age 
Had slightly pressed its signet sage. 



THE CHASE. 



59 




let had not quenched the open truth 
And fiery vehemence of youth ; 
Forward and frolic alee was there. 



60 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The will to do, the soul to dare, 

The sparkling glance, soon blown to fire, 

Of hasty love or headlong ire. 

His limbs were cast in manly mould 

For hardy sports or contest bold ; 

And though in peaceful garb arrayed. 

And weaponless except his blade, 

His stately mien as well implied 

A high-born heart, a martial pride, 

As if a baron's crest he wore, 

And sheathed in armor trode the shore. 

Slighting the petty need he showed, 

He told of his benighted road ; 

His ready speech flowed fair and free. 

In phrase of gentlest courtesy. 

Yet seemed that tone and gesture bland 

Less used to sue than to command. 



XXIT. 

Awhile the maid the stranger eyed. 
And, reassured, at length replied, 
That Highland halls were open still 
To wildered wanderers of the hill. 
" Nor think you unexpected come 
To yon lone isle, our desert home ; 
Before tlie heath had lost the dew, 
This morn, a couch was pulled for you 
On yonder mountain's purple head 
Have ptarmigan and heath-cock bled. 



THE CHASE. 61 

And our broad nets have swept the mere, 
To furnish forth your evening cheer." — 
" Now, by the rood, my lovely maid, 
Your courtesy has erred," he said ; 
" No right have I to claim, misplaced. 
The welcome of expected guest. 
A wanderer, here by fortune tost, 
My way, my friends, my courser lost, 
I ne'er before, believe me, fair. 
Have ever draAvn your mountain air, 
Till on this lake's romantic strand 
I found a fay in fairy land ! " — 



XXIII. 

" I well believe," the maid replied. 

As her light skiff approached the side, — 

" I well believe, that ne'er before 

Your foot has trod Loch Katrine's shore 

But yet, as far as yesternight, 

Old Allan-bane foretold your plight, — 

A gray-haired sire, whose eye intent 

Was on the visioned future bent. 

He saw your steed, a dappled gray, 

Lie dead beneath the birchen way ; 

Painted exact your form and mien. 

Your hunting- suit of Lincoln green. 

That tasselled horn so gayly gilt. 

That falchion's crooked blade and hilt, 

That cap with lieron plumage trim. 



ea THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And yon two liounds so dark and grim. 

He bade that all should ready be 

To grace a guest of fair degree ; 

But light I held his prophecy, 

And deemed it was my father's horn 

Whose echoes o'er the lake were borne." 



XXIV. 

The stranger smiled : — " Since to your home 

A destined errant-knight I come, 

Announced by prophet sooth and old, 

Doomed, doubtless, for achievement bold, 

I '11 lightly front each high emprise 

For one kind glance of those bright eyes. 

Permit me first the task to guide 

Your fairy frigate o'er the tide." 

The maid, with smile suppressed and sly. 

The toil unwonted saw him try ; 

For seldom, sure, if e'er before. 

His noble hand had grasped an oar : 

Yet with main strength his strokes he drew, 

And o'er the lake the shallop flew; 

With heads erect and whimpering cry. 

The hounds behind their passage ply. 

Nor frequent does the bright oar break 

The darkening mirror of the lake. 

Until the rocky isle they reach. 

And moor their shallop on the beach. 



THE CHASE. 63 



XXV. 



The stranger viewed the shore around ; 
'T was all so close with copsewood bound, 
Nor track nor pathway might declare 
That human foot frequented there, 
Until the mountain maiden showed 
A clambering unsuspected road, 
That winded through the tangled screen, 
And opened on a narrow green. 
Where weeping birch and willow round 
With their long fibres swept the ground. 
Here, for retreat in dangerous hour, 
Some chief had framed a rustic bower. 



XXVI. 



It was a lodge of ample size. 

But strange of structure and device ; 

Of such materials as around 

The workman's hand had readiest found. 

Lopped of their boughs, their hoar trunks bared, 

And by the hatchet rudely squared, 

To give the walls their destined height, 

The sturdy oak and ash unite; 

While moss and clay and leaves combined 

To fence each crevice from the wind. 

The lighter pine-trees overhead 

Their slender length for rafters spread, 

And withered heath and rushes dry 



64 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Supplied a russet canopy. 

Due westward, fronting to the green, 

A rural portico Avas seen, 

Aloft on native pillars borne, 

Of mountain fir with bark unshorn. 

Where Ellen's hand had taught to twine 

The ivy and Idaean vine. 

The clematis, the favored flower 

Which boasts the name of virgin-bower. 

And every hardy plant could bear 

Loch Katrine's keen and searching air. 

An instant in this porch she stayed, 

And gayly to the stranger said : 

" On heaven and on thy lady call, 

And enter the enchanted hall ! " 



XXVII. 

" My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, 
My gentle guide, in following thee ! " — 
He crossed the threshold, — and a clang 
Of angry steel that instant rang. 
To his bold brow his spirit rushed, 
But soon for vain alarm he blushed. 
When on the floor he saw displayed, 
Cause of th€ din, a naked blade 
Dropped from the sheath, that careless flung 
Upon a stag's huge antlers swung; 
For all around, the walls to grace, 
Hung trophies of the fight or chase : 



THE CHASE. 65 

A target there, a bugle here, 
A battle-axe, a hunting-spear, 
And broadswords, bows, and arrows store, 
With the tusked trophies of the boar. 
Here grins the wolf as when he died, 
And there the wild-cat's brindled hide 
The frontlet of the elk adorns. 
Or mantles o'er the bison's horns ; 
Pennons and flags defaced and stained, 
That blackening streaks of blood retained, 
And deer-skins, dappled, dun, and white, 
With otter's fur and seal's unite, 
In rude and uncouth tapestry all, 
To garnish forth the sylvan hall. 



XXVIIT. 

The wondering stranger round him gazed, 
And next the fallen weapon raised : — 
Few were the arms whose sinewy strength 
Sufficed to stretch it forth at length. 
And as the brand he poised and swayed, 
*' I never knew but one," he said, 
•' Whose stalwart arm might brook to wield 
A blade like this in battle-field." 
She sighed, then smiled and took the word : 
"You see the guardian champion's sword; 
As light it trembles in his hand 
As in my grasp a hazel w^and : 



QQ THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

My sire's tall form might grace the part 
Of Ferragus or Ascabart, 
But in the absent giant's hold 
Are women now, and menials old." 



XXIX. 

The mistress of the mansion came, 

Mature of age, a graceful dame. 

Whose easy step and stately port 

Had well become a princely court, 

To whom, though more than kindred knew, 

Young Ellen gave a mother's due. 

Meet welcome to her guest she made, 

And every courteous rite was paid 

That hospitality could claim. 

Though all unasked his birth and name. 

Such then the reverence to a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast, 

And from his deadliest foeman's door 

Unquestioned turn, the banquet o'er. 

At length his rank the stranger names, 

" The Knight of Snowdoun, James Fitz-James 

Lord of a barren heritage. 

Which his brave sires, from age to age. 

By their good swords had held with toil ; 

His sire had fallen in such turmoil. 

And he, God wot, was forced to stand 

Oft for his right with blade in hand. 



THE CHASE. 67 

This morning with Lord Moray's train 
He chased a stalwart stag in vain, 
Outstripped his comrades, missed the deer. 
Lost his good steed, and wandered here." 



XXX. 

Fain would the Knight in turn require 
The name and state of Ellen's sire. 
Well showed the elder lady's mien 
That courts and cities she had seen ; 
Ellen, though more her looks displayed 
The simple grace of sylvan maid. 
In speech and gesture, form and face, 
Showed she was come of gentle race. 
'T were strange in ruder rank to find 
Such looks, such manners, and such mind. 
Each hint the Knight of Snowdoun gave, 
Dame Margaret heard with silence grave ; 
Or Ellen, innocently gay. 
Turned all inquiry light away : — 
" Weird women we ! by dale and down 
We dwell, afar from tower and town. 
We stem the flood, we ride the blast, 
On wandering knights our spells we cast ; 
While viewless minstrels touch the string, 
'T is thus our charmed rhymes we sing." 
She sung, and still a harp unseen 
Filled up tne symphony between. 



68 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XXXI. 



SONG. 



" Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o'er, 

Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking : 
Dream of battled fields no more, 

Daj^s of danger, nights of waking. 
In our isle's enchanted hall. 

Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, 
Fairy strains of music fall, 

Every sense in slumber dewing. 
Soldier, rest ! thy Avarfare o'er. 
Dream of fighting fields no more ; 
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking, 
Morn of toil, nor night of waking. 

" No rude sound shall reach thine ear. 

Armor's clang or war-steed champing, 
Trump nor pibroch summon here 

Mustering clan or squadron tramping. 
Yet the lark's shrill fife may come 

At the daybreak from the fallow, 
And the bittern sound his drum, 

Booming from the sedgy shallow. 
Ruder sounds shall none be near, 
Guards nor warders challenge here. 
Here 's no war-steed's neigh and champing 
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping." 



THE CHASE. 69 



XXXII. 



She paused, — then, blushing, led the lay, 

To grace the stranger of the day. 

Her mellow notes awhile prolong 

The cadence of the flowing song, 

Till to her lips in measured frame 

The minstrel verse spontaneous came. 



SONG CONTINUED. 

*' Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; 

While our slumbrous spells assail ye. 
Dream not, with the rising sun, 

Bugles here shall sound reveille. 
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ; 

Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ; 
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen 
How thy gallant steed lay dying. 
Huntsman, rest ! thy chase is done ; 
Think not of the rising sun. 
For at dawning to assail ye 
Here no bugles sound reveille." 



XXXIII. 

The hall was cleared, — the stranger's bed 
Was there of mountain heather spread. 
Where oft a hundred guests had lain, 
And dreamed their forest sports again. 



70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

But vainly did tlie heath-flower shed 

Its moorland fragrance round his head ; 

Not Ellen's spell had lulled to rest 

The fever of his troubled breast. 

In broken dreams the image rose 

Of varied perils, pains, and woes : 

His steed now flounders in the brake, 

Now sinks his barge upon the lake ; 

Now leader of a broken host. 

His standard falls, his honor s lost. 

Then, — from my couch may heavenly might 

Chase that worst phantom of the night ! — 

Again returned the scenes of youth. 

Of confident, undoubting truth ; 

Again his soul he interchanged 

With friends whose hearts were long estranged. 

They come, in dim procession led, 

The cold, the faithless, and the dead ; 

As warm each hand, each brow as gay, 

As if they parted yesterday. 

And doubts distract him at the view, — 

Oh, were his senses false or true ? 

Dreamed he of death or broken vow. 

Or is it all a vision now ? 



XXXIV. 

At length, with Ellen in a grove 

He seemed to walk and speak of love ; 

She listened with a blush and sigh, 



THE CHASE. 

His suit was warm, his hopes were high. 
He sought her yielded hand to clasp, 
And a cold gauntlet met his grasp : 



71 




The phantom's sex was changed and gone. 

Upon its head a helmet shone ; 

Slowly enlarged to giant size. 

With darkened cheek and threatening eyes, 



72 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The grisly visage, stern and hoar, 

To Ellen still a likeness bore. — 

He woke, and, panting with affright, 

Recalled the vision of the night. 

The hearth's decaying brands were red. 

And deep and dusky lustre shed. 

Half showing, half concealing, all 

The uncouth trophies of the hall. 

Mid those the stranger fixed his eye 

Where that huge falchion hung on high. 

And thoughts on thoughts, a countless throng. 

Rushed, chasing countless thoughts along. 

Until, the giddy whirl to cure, 

He rose and sought the moonshine pure. 

XXXV. 

The wild rose, eglantine, and broom 
Wasted around their rich perfume ; 
The birch-trees wept in fragrant balm ; 
The aspens slept beneath the calm ; 
The silver light, with quivering glance. 
Played on the water's still expanse, — 
Wild were the heart whose passion's sway 
Could rage beneath the sober ray ! 
He felt its calm, that warrior guest. 
While thus he communed with his breast : — = 
"Why is it, at each turn I trace 
Some memory of that exiled race ? 
Can I not mountain maiden sp3% 



THE CHASE. 73 

But she must bear the Douglas eye? 
Can I not view a Highland brand, 
But it must match the Douglas hand ? 
Can I not frame a fevered dream. 
But still the Douglas is the theme ? 
I'll dream no more, — by manly mind 
Not even in sleep is will resigned. 
My midnight orisons said o'er, 
I '11 turn to rest, and dream no more." 
His midnight orisons he told, 
A prayer with every bead of gold, 
Consigned to heaven his cares and woes. 
And sunk in undisturbed repose, 
Until the heath-cock shrilly crew, 
And morning dawned on Ben venue. 




CANTO SECOND. 

THE ISLAND. 



The island 




LOCH KATRINE: THE STRAND 



CANTO SECOND. 



THE 1SLA.ND. 



At morn tlie black-cock trims his jetty wing, 

'T is morning prompts the linnet's blithest lay, 
All Nature's children feel the matin spring 

Of life reviving, with reviving clay ; 
And while yon little bark glides down the bay, 

Wafting the stranger on his way again. 
Morn's genial influence roused a minstrel gray, 

And sweetly o'er the lake was heard thy strain. 
Mixed with the sounding harp, white-haired Allan-bane ! 



II. 

SONG. 

" Not faster yonder rowers' might 
Flings from their oars the spray, 

Not faster yonder rippling bright. 

That tracks the shallop's course in light, 
Melts in the lake away, 

Than men from memory erase 

The benefits of former days ; 



80 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Then, stranger, go ! good speed the while, 
Nor think again of the lonely isle. 

" High place to thee in royal court, 

High place in battled line. 
Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport ! 
Where beauty sees the brave resort, 

The honored meed be thine ! 
True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, 
Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, 
And lost in love's and friendship's smile 
Be memory of the lonely isle ! 

III. 

SONG CONTINUED. 

" But if beneath yon southern sky 

A plaided stranger roam. 
Whose drooping crest and stifled sigh, 
And sunken cheek and heavy eye, 

Pine for his Highland home ; 
Then, w^arrior, then be thine to show 
The care that soothes a wanderer's woe ; 
Remember then thy hap erewhile, 
A stranger in the lonely isle. 

" Or if on life's uncertain main 

Mishap shall mar thy sail ; 
If faithful, wise, and brave in vain. 



THE ISLAND. 81 

Woe, want, and exile thou sustain 

Beneath the fickle gale ; 
Waste not a sigh on fortune changed, 
On thankless courts, or friends estranged, 
But come where kindred worth shall smile, 
To greet thee in the lonely isle." 



IV. 

As died the sounds upon the tide. 

The shallop reached the mainland side, 

And ere his onward way he took, 

The stranger cast a lingering look, 

Where easily his eye might reach 

The Harper on the islet beach. 

Reclined against a blighted tree, 

As wasted, gray, and worn as he. 

To minstrel meditation given. 

His reverend brow was raised to heaveu 

As from the rising sun to claim 

A sparkle of inspiring flame. 

His hand, reclined upon the wire. 

Seemed watching the awakening fire ; 

So still he sat as those who w^ait 

Till judgment speak the doom of fate ; 

So still, as if no breeze might dare 

To lift one lock of hoary hair ; 

So still, as life itself were fled 

In the last sound his harp had sped. 



82 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



V. 

Upon a rock with lichens wild, 
Beside him Ellen sat and smiled. — 
Smiled she to see the stately drake 
Lead forth his fleet upon the lake, 
While her vexed spaniel from the beach 
Bayed at the prize beyond his reach ? 
Yet tell mc, then, the maid who knows, 
Why deepened on her cheek the rose ? — 
Forgive, forgive, Fidelity ! 
Perchance the maiden smiled to see 
Yon parting lingerer wave adieu, 
And stop and turn to wave anew ; 
And, lovely ladies, ere your ire 
Condemn the heroine of my lyre. 
Show me the fair would scorn to spy 
And prize such conquest of her eye ! 



VI. 

While yet he loitered on the spot. 
It seemed as Ellen marked him not ; 
But when he turned him to the glade^ 
One courteous parting sign she made ; 
And after, oft the knight would say, 
That not when prize of festal day 
Was dealt him by the brightest fair 
Who e'er Avore jewel in her hair, 
So highly did his bosom swell 



THE ISLAND. 83 

As at th;it simple luutu farewell. 

Now with a trusty mountain-guide, 

And his dark stag-hounds by his side, 

He parts, — the maid, unconscious still, 

Watched him wind slowly round the liill; 

But when his stately form was hid, 

The guardian in her bosom chid, — 

"Thy Malcolm! vain and seltish maid ! " 

'T was thus upbraiding conscience said, — 

" Not so had Malcolm idly hung 

On the smooth phrase of Southern tongue ; 

Not so had Malcolm strained his eye 

Another step than thine to spy." — 

" Wake, Allan-bane," aloud she cried 

To the old minstrel by her side, — 

" Arouse thee from thy moody dream ! 

I '11 give thy harp heroic theme, 

And warm thee with a noble name ; 

Pour forth the glory of the Grrseme ! " 

Scarce from her lip the word had rushed, 

When deep the conscious maiden blushed ; 

For of his clan, in hall and bower, 

Young Malcolm Graeme was held the flower. 



VII. 

The minstrel waked his harp, — three times 
Arose the well-known martial chimes, 
And thrice their high heroic pride 
In melancholy murmurs died. 



84 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" Vainly thou bidst, O noble maid," 

Clasping his withered hands, he said, 

" Vainly thou bidst me wake the strain, 

Though all unwont to bid in vain. 

Alas ! than mine a mightier hand 

Has tuned my barp, my strings has spanned ! 

I touch the chords of joy, but low 

And mournful answer notes of woe ; 

And the proud march which victors tread 

Sinks in the wailing for the dead. 

Oh, well for me, if mine alone 

That dirge's deep prophetic tone ! 

If, as my tuneful fathers said. 

This harp, which erst Saint Modan swayed, 

Can thus its master's fate foretell. 

Then welcome be the minstrel's knell ! 



VIII. 

"But ah! dear lady, thus it sighed, 

The eve thy sainted mother died ; 

And such the sounds which, while I strove 

To wake a lay of war or love, 

Came marring all the festal mirth, 

Appalling me who gave them birth, 

And, disobedient to my call, 

Wailed loud through Bothwell's bannered hall, 

Ere Douglases, to ruin driven. 

Were exiled from their native heaven. — 

Oh ! if yet worse mishap and woe 



THE ISLAND. 



85 




My master's house must undergo, 
Or aught but weal to Ellen fan- 
Brood in these accents of despair, 
No future bard, sad Harp ! shall flin< 
Triumph or rapture from thy string j 



86 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

One short, one final strain shall flow, 
Fraught with unutterable woe, 
Then shivered shall thy fragments lie, 
Thy master cast him down and die ! " 



IX. 



Soothing she answered him : " Assuage, 

Mine honored friend, the fears of age ; 

All melodies to thee are knoAvn 

That harp has rung or pipe has blown, 

In Lowland vale or Highland glen. 

From Tweed to Spey — what marvel, then, 

At times unbidden notes should rise. 

Confusedly bound in memory's ties. 

Entangling, as they rush along. 

The war-march with the funeral song ? — 

Small ground is now for boding fear ; 

Obscure, but safe, we rest us here. 

My sire, in native virtue great, 

Kesigning lordship, lands, and state, 

Not then to fortune more resigned 

Than yonder oak might give the wind ; 

The graceful foliage storms may reave, 

The noble stem they cannot grieve. 

For me" — she stooped, and, looking round, 

Plucked a blue harebell from the ground, — 

"For me, whose memory scarce conveys 

An image of more splendid days. 



THE ISLAND. 87 

This little flower that loves the lea 

May well my simple emblem be ; 

It drinks heaven's dew as blithe as rose 

That in the King's own garden grows ; 

And when I place it in my hair, 

Allan, a bard is bound to swear 

He ne'er saw coronet so fair." 

Then playfully the chaplet wild 

She wreathed in her dark locks, and smiled. 



X. 



Her smile, her speech, with winning sway. 
Wiled the old Harper's mood away. 
With such a look as hermits throw, 
When angels stoop to soothe their woe, 
He gazed, till fond regret and pride 
Thrilled to a tear, then thus replied : 
" Loveliest and best ! thou little know'st 
The rank, the honors, thou hast lost ! 
Oh, might I live to see thee grace, 
In Scotland's court, thy birthright place, 
To see my favorite's step advance 
The lightest in the courtly dance, 
The cause of every gallant's sigh, 
And leading star of every eye. 
And theme of every minstrel's art, 
The Ladv of the Bleedino- Heart ! " 



88 TEE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

XI. 

*' Fair dreams are these," tlie maiden cried, 
Light was her accent, yet she sighed, — 
" Yet is this mossy rock to me 
Worth splendid chair and canopy ; 
Nor would my footstep spring more gay 
In courtly dance than blithe strathspey, 
Nor half so pleased mine ear incline 
To royal minstrel's lay as thine. 
And then for suitors proud and high. 
To bend before my conquering eye, — 
Thou, flattering bard ! thyself wilt say, 
That grim Sir Roderick owns its sway. 
The Saxon scourge. Clan- Alpine's pride, 
The terror of Loch Lomond's side. 
Would, at my suit, thou know'st, delay 
A Lennox foray — for a day." — 



XII. 

The ancient bard her glee repressed : 

" III hast thou chosen theme for jest ! 

For who, through all this western wild. 

Named Black Sir Roderick e'er, and smiled? 

In Holy-Rood a knight he slew ; 

I saw, when back the dirk he drew, 

Courtiers give place before the stride 

Of the undaunted homicide; 

And since, though outlawed, hath his hand 



THE ISLAND. 89 

Full sternly kept liis mountain land. 

Who else dared give — all ! woe the day, 

That I such hated truth should say ! — 

The Douglas, like a stricken deer, 

Disowned by every noble peer. 

Even the rude refuge we have here ? 

Alas, this wild marauding Chief 

Alone might hazard our relief. 

And now thy maiden charms expand, 

Looks for his guerdon in thy hand ; 

Full soon may dispensation sought. 

To back his suit, from Eome be brought. 

Then, though an exile on the hill, 

Thy father, as the Douglas, still 

Be held in reverence and fear; 

And though to Roderick thou'rt so dear 

That thou mightst guide with silken thread, 

Slave of thy will, this chieftain dread. 

Yet, loved maid, thy mirth refrain ! 

Thy hand is on a lion's mane." — 



XIII. 

"Minstrel," the maid replied, and high 
Her father's soul glanced from her eye, 
" My debts to Roderick's house I know 
All that a mother could bestow 
To Lady Margaret's care I owe. 
Since first an orphan in the wild 
She sorrowed o'er her sister's child ; 



90 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

To her brave chieftain son, from ire 
Of Scotland's king who shrouds my sire, 
A deeper, holier debt is owed ; 
And, could I pay it witli my blood, 
Allan ! Sir Eoderiek should command 
My blood, my life, — but not my hand. 
Eather will Ellen Douglas dwell 
A votaress in Maronnan's cell ; 
Eather through realms beyond the sea, 
Seeking the world's cold charity, 
Where ne*er was spoke a Scottish word, 
And ne'er the name of Douglas heard. 
An outcast pilgrim will she rove, 
Than wed the man she cannot love. 



XIV. 

" Thou shak'st, good friend, thy tresses gray, 

That pleading look, what can it say 

But what I own? — I grant him brave. 

But wild as Bracklinn's thundenng wave ; 

And generous, — save vindictive mood 

Or jealous transport chafe his blood : 

I grant him true to friendly band. 

As his claymore is to his hand ; 

But oh ! that very blade of steel, 

More mercy for a foe would feel : 

I grant him liberal, to fling 

Among his clan the wealth they bring. 

When back by lake and glen they wind, 



THE ISLAND. 



91 




And in the Lowland leave heliind, 
Where once some pleasant handet stood, 
A mass of ashes slaked with blood. 
The hand that for my father fought 
I honor, as his daughter ought; 
But can I clasp it reeking red 



92 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

From peasants slaughtered in their shed ? 

No ! wildly while his virtues gleam, 

They make his passions darker seem, 

And flash along his spirit high, 

Like lightning o'er the midnight sky. 

While yet a child, — and children know. 

Instinctive taught, tlie friend and foe, — 

I shuddered at his brow of gloom. 

His shadowy plaid and sable plume ; 

A maiden grown, I ill could bear 

His haughty mien and lordly air : 

But, if thou join'st a suitor's claim, 

In serious mood, to Koderick's name, 

I thrill with anguish ! or, if e'er 

A Douglas knew the word, with fear. 

To change such odious theme were best, — 

What think'st thou of our strano;er ouest ? 



XV. 

•' What think I of him ? — Avoe the while 
That brought such wanderer to our isle ! 
Thy father's battle-brand, of yore 
For Tine-man forged by fairy lore. 
What time he leagued, no longer foes, 
His Border spears with Hotspur's bows, 
Did, self-unscabbarded, foreshow 
The footstep of a secret foe. 
If courtly spy hath harbored here, 
What may we for the Douglas fear ? 



THE ISLAND. 93 

What for this island, deemed of old 

Clan- Alpine's last and surest hold ? 

If neither spy nor foe, I pray 

What yet may jealous Roderick say ? — 

Nay, wave not thy disdainful head ! 

Bethink thee of the discord dread 

That kindled when at Beltane game 

Thou ledst the dance with Malcolm Graeme ; 

Still, though thy sire the peace renewed, 

Smoulders in Roderick's breast the feud : 

Beware ! — But hark ! what sounds are these ? 

My dull ears catch no faltering breeze. 

No weeping birch nor aspens wake, 

Nor breath is dimpling in the lake ; 

Still is the canna's hoary beard. 

Yet, by my minstrel faith, I heard — 

And hark again ! some pipe of war 

Sends the bold pibroch from afar." 



XVI. 

Far up the lengthened lake w^ere spied 
Four darkening specks upon the tide. 
That, slow enlarging on the view, 
Four manned and masted barges grew, 
And, bearing downwards from Glengyle, 
Steered full upon the lonely isle ; 
The point of Brianchoil they passed, 
And, to the windward as tliey cast. 
Against the sun they gave to shine 



94 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 

The bold Sir Eoderick's bannered Pine. 
Nearer and nearer as they bear, 
' Spears, pikes, and axes flasli in air. 
Now mi'o-ht you see the tartans brave, 
And plaids and plumage dance and wave : 
Now see the bonnets sink and rise, 
As his tough oar the rower plies ; 
See, flashing at each sturdy stroke, 
The wave ascending into smoke ; 
See the proud pipers on the bow, 
And mark the gaudy streamers flow 
From their loud chanters down, and sweep 
The furrowed bosom of the deep, 
As, rushing through the lake amain. 
They plied the ancient Highland strain. 



XVIT. 

Ever, as on they bore, more loud 

And louder rung the pibroch proud. 

At first the sounds, by distance tame, 

Mellowed along the waters came. 

And, lingering long by cape and bay, 

Wailed every harsher note away. 

Then bursting bolder on the ear, 

The clan's shrill Gathering they could hear, 

Those tlirilling sounds that call the might 

Of old Clan-Alpine to tlie fight. 

Thick beat the rapid notes, as when 

The mustering hundreds shake the glen. 



THE ISLAND. 95 

And hiuTyiiig at the signal dread, 
The battered earth returns their tread. 
Then prelude light, of livelier tone, 
Expressed their merry marching on, 
Ere peal of closing battle rose. 
With mingled outcry, shrieks, and blows ; 
And mimic din of stroke and ward, 
As broadsword upon target jarred ; 
And groaning pause, ere yet again, 
Condensed, the battle yelled amain : 
The rapid charge, the rallying shout, 
Ketreat borne headlong into rout. 
And bursts of triumph, to declare 
Clan-Alpine's conquest — all were there. 
Nor ended thus the strain, but slow 
Sunk in a moan prolonged and low. 
And changed the conquering clarion swell 
For wild lament o'er those that fell. 



XVIII. 

The war-pipes ceased, but lake and hill 
Were busy with their echoes still ; 
And, when they slept, a vocal strain 
Bade their hoarse chorus wake again, 
While loud a hundred clansmen raise 
Their voices in their Chieftain's praise. 
Each boatman, bending to his oar, 
With measured sweep the burden bore. 
In such wild cadence as the breeze 



96 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 




Makes through December's leafless trees. 
The chorus first could Allan know, 
" Roderick Vich Alpine, ho ! iro ! " 
And near, and nearer as they rowed, 
Distinct the martial ditty flowed. 



THE ISLAND. 97 

XIX. 

BOAT SONG. 

Hail to the Chief who in triumph advances ! 

Honored and blessed be the ever-green Pine ! 
Long may the tree, in his banner that glances, 
Flourish, the shelter and grace of our line ! 

Heaven send it happy dew, 

Earth lend it sap anew, 
Gayly to bourgeon and broadly to grow. 

While every Highland glen 

Sends our shout back again, 
" Eoderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by the fountain, 

Blooming at Beltane, in winter to fade ; 
When the whirlwind has stripped every leaf on the moun- 
tain, 
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult in her shade. 
Moored in the rifted rock. 
Proof to the tempest's shock, 
Firmer he roots him the ruder it blow ; 
Menteith and Breadalbane, then. 
Echo his praise again, 
'' Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 



XX. 

Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in Glen Fruin, 
And Bannochar's groans to our slogan replied 



98 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Glen Luss and Eoss-dhu, they are smoking in ruin, 
And the best of Loch Lomond lie dead on her side. 

Widow and Saxon maid 

Long shall lament our raid, 
Think of Clan -Alpine with fear and with woe ; 

Lennox and Leven-glen 

Shake when they hear again, 
" Roderigh Yich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 

Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the Highlands ! 

Stretch to your oars for the ever-green Pine ! 
Oh that the rosebud that graces yon islands 

Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine ! 
Oh that some seedling gem, 
Worthy such noble stem, 
Honored and blessed in their shadow might grow ! 
Loud should Clan- Alpine then 
Ring from her deepmost glen, 
" Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho ! ieroe ! " 



XXI. 

With all her joyful female band 
Had Lady Margaret sought the strand. 
Loose on the breeze their tresses flew, 
And high their snowy arms they threw, 
As echoing back with shrill acclaim, 
And chorus wild, the Chieftain's name ; 
While, prompt to please, with mother's art, 
The darling passion of his heart. 



THE ISLAND. 99 

The Dame called Ellen to the strand, 

To greet her kinsman ere he land : 

" Come, loiterer, come ! a Douglas thou, 

And shun to wreathe a victor's brow ? " 

Eeluctantly and slow, the maid 

The unwelcome summoning obeyed, 

And when a distant bugle rung, 

In the mid-path aside she sprung : — 

" List, Allan-bane ! Prom mainland cast 

I hear my father's signal blast. 

Be ours," she cried, " the skiff to guide. 

And waft him from the mountain-side." 

Then, like a sunbeam, swift and bright, 

She darted to her shallop light, 

And, eagerly while Koderick scanned, 

For her dear form, his mother's band, 

The islet far behind her lay, 

And she had landed in the bay. 



XXII. 

Some feelings are to mortals given 
With less of earth in them than heaven 
And if there be a human tear 
From passion's dross refined and clear, 
A tear so limpid and so meek 
It would not stain an angel's cheek, 
'T is that which pious fathers shed 
Upon a duteous daughter's head ! 
And as the Douglas to his breast 



100 



TEE LADY OF TEE LAKE, 




His darling Ellen closely pressed, 
Such holy drops her tresses steeped, 
Though 't was an hero's eye that weeped. 
Nor while on Ellen's faltering tongue 
Her filial welcomes crowded hung, 
Marked she that fear — afifection's proof — 



THE ISLAND. 101 

Still held a graceful youth aloof ; 

No ! not till Douglas named his name, 

Although the youth was Malcolm Grseme. 



XXIII. 

Allan, with wistful look the while, 

Marked Koderick landing on the isle ; 

His master piteously he eyed, 

Then gazed upon the Chieftain's pride, 

Then dashed with hasty hand away 

From his dimmed eye the gathering spray •, 

And Douglas, as his hand he laid 

On Malcolm's shoulder, kindly said : 

" Canst thou, young friend, no meaning spy 

In my poor follower's glistening eye ? 

I '11 tell thee : — he recalls the day 

When in my praise he led the lay 

O'er the arched gate of Bothwell proud, 

While many a minstrel answered loud. 

When Percy's Norman pennon, won 

In bloody field, before me shone. 

And twice ten knights, the least a name 

As mighty as yon Chief may claim. 

Gracing my pomp, behind me came. 

Yet trust me, Malcolm, not so proud 

Was I of all that marshalled crowd, 

Though the waned crescent owned my might, 

And in my train trooped lord and knight. 

Though Blantyre hymned her holiest lays. 



102 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And Bothwell's bards flung- back my praise, 
As when this old man's silent tear, 
And this poor maid's affection dear, 
A welcome give more kind and true 
Than aught my better fortunes knew. 
Forgive, my friend, a father's boast, — 
Oh, it out-beggars all I lost ! " 



XXIV. 

Delightful praise ! — like summer rose, 
That brighter in the dew-drop glows, 
The bashful maiden's cheek appeared, 
For Douglas spoke, and Malcolm heard. 
The flush of shame-faced joy to hide. 
The hounds, the hawk, her cares divide ; 
The loved caresses of the maid 
The dogs with crouch and whimper paid ; 
And, at her whistle, on her hand 
The falcon took his favorite stand, 
Closed his dark wing, relaxed his eye, 
Nor, though unliooded, sought to fly. 
And, trust, while in such guise she stood. 
Like fabled Goddess of the wood, 
That if a father's partial thought 
O'erweighed her worth and beauty aught, 
Well might the lover's judgment fail 
To balance with a juster scale ; 
For with each secret glance he stole, • 
The fond enthusiast sent his soul. 



THE ISLAND. 103 



XXV. 

Of stature fair, and slender frame. 

But firmly knit, was Malcolm Graeme. 

The belted plaid and tartan hose 

Did ne'er more graceful limbs disclose ; 

His flaxen hair, of sunny hue, 

Curled closely round his bonnet blue. 

Trained to the chase, his eagle eye 

The ptarmigan in snow could spy ; 

Each pass, by mountain, lake, and heath, 

He knew, through Lennox and Menteith ; 

Vain was the bound of dark-brown doe 

When Malcolm bent his sounding bow, 

And scarce that doe, though winged with fear^ 

Outstripped in speed the mountaineer : 

Right up Ben Lomond could he press, 

And not a sob his toil confess. 

His form accorded with a mind 

Lively and ardent, frank and kind ; 

A blither heart, till Ellen came. 

Did never love nor sorrow tame ; 

It danced as lightsome in his breast 

As played the feather on his crest. 

Yet friends, who nearest knew the youth. 

His scorn of wrong, his zeal for truth, 

And bards, who saw his features bold 

When kindled by the tales of old, 

Said, were that youth to manhood grown, 

Not long should Roderick Dhu's renown 



104 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Be foremost voiced by mountain fame, 
But quail to that of Malcolm Grseme. 

XXVI. 

Now back they wend their watery way, 

And, " O my sire ! " did Ellen say, 

" Why urge thy chase so far astray ? 

And why so late returned ? And why " — 

The rest was in her speaking eye. 

•' My child, the chase I follow far, 

'T is mimicry of noble war ; 

And with that gallant pastime reft 

Were all of Douglas I have left. 

I met young Malcolm as I strayed 

Far eastward, in Glenfinlas' shade ; 

Nor strayed I safe, for all around 

Hunters and horsemen scoured the ground. 

This youth, though still a royal ward, 

Eisked life and land to be my guard, 

And through the passes of the wood 

Guided my steps, not unpursued ; 

And Roderick shall his welcome make. 

Despite old spleen, for Douglas' sake. 

Then must he seek Strath -Endrick glen, 

Nor peril aught for me again." 

XXVII. 

Sir Roderick, who to meet them came. 
Reddened at sight of Malcolm Grseme, 



THE ISLAND. 105 

Yet, not in action, word, or eye, 

Failed aught in hospitality. 

In talk and sport they whiled away 

The morning of that summer day ; 

But at high noon a courier light 

Held secret parley with the knight, 

Whose moody aspect soon declared 

That evil were the news he heard. 

Deep thought seemed toiling in his head ; 

Yet was the evening banquet made 

Ere he assembled round the flame 

His mother, Douglas, and the Graeme, 

And Ellen too ; then cast around 

His eyes, then fixed them on the ground. 

As studying phrase that might avail 

Best to convey unpleasant tale. 

Long with his dagger's hilt he played, 

Then raised his haughty brow, and said : — 



XXVIII. 

" Short be my speech ; — nor time affords. 
Nor my plain temper, glozing words. 
Kinsman and father, — if such name 
Douglas vouchsafe to Eoderick's claim ; 
Mine honored mother ; — Ellen, — why. 
My cousin, turn away thine eye ? — 
And Grseme, in whom I hope to know 
Full soon a noble friend or foe. 
When age shall give thee thy command, 



106 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And leading- in thy native land, — 

List all ! — The King's vindictive pride 

Boasts to have tamed the Border-side, 

Where chiefs, with hound and hawk who came 

To share their monarch's sylvan game, 

Themselves in bloody toils were snared, 

And when the banquet they prepared, 

And wide their lo^^al portals flung, 

O'er their own gateway struggling hung. 

Loud cries their blood from Meggat's mead. 

From Yarrow braes and banks of Tweed, 

Where the lone streams of Ettrick glide. 

And from the silver Teviot's side ; 

The dales, where martial clans did ride, 

Are now one sheep-walk, waste and wide. 

This tyrant of the Scottish throne, 

So faithless and so ruthless known. 

Now hither comes ; his end the same. 

The same pretext of sylvan game. 

What grace for Highland Chiefs, judge ye 

By fate of Border chivahy. 

Yet more; amid Glenfinlas' green, 

Douglas, thy stately form was seen. 

This by espial sure I know : 

Your counsel in the streis-ht T show." 



XXIX. 

Ellen and Margaret fearfully 
Sought comfort in each other's eye, 



THE ISLAND. 107 

Then turned their ghastly look, each one, 

This to her sire, that to her son. 

The hasty color went and came 

In the bold cheek of Malcolm Graeme, 

But from his glance it well appeared 

'T was but for Ellen that he feared ; 

While, sorrowful, but undismayed, 

The Douglas thus his counsel said : 

" Brave Roderick, though the tempest roar, 

It may but thunder and pass o'er ; 

Nor will I here remain an hour. 

To draw the lightning on thy bower ; 

For well thou know'st, at this gray head 

The royal bolt were fiercest sped. 

For thee, who, at thy King's command, 

Canst aid him with a gallant band, 

Submission, homage, humbled pride, 

Shall turn the Monarch's wrath aside. 

Poor remnants of the Bleeding Heart, 

Ellen and I will seek apart 

The refuge of some forest cell, 

There, like the hunted quarry, dwell. 

Till on the mountain and the moor 

The stern pursuit be passed and o'er," — 



XXX. 

" No, by mine honor," Roderick said, 

" So help me Heaven, and my good blade ! 

No, never ! Blasted be yon Pine, 



108 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

My father's ancient crest and mine. 

If from its shade in danger part 

The lineage of the Bleeding Heart ! 

Hear my blunt speech : grant me this maid 

To wife, thy counsel to mine aid ; 

To Douglas, leagued with Eoderick Dhu, 

Will friends and allies flock enow ; 

Like cause of doubt, distrust, and grief, 

Will bind to us each Western Chief. 

When the loud pipes my bridal tell, 

The Links of Forth shall hear the knell, 

The guards shall start in Stirling's porch ; 

And when I light the nuptial torch, 

A thousand villages in flames 

Shall scare the slumbers of King James ! — 

Nay, Ellen, blench not thus away, 

And, mother, cease these signs, I pray ; 

I meant not all my heat might say. — 

Small need of inroad or of fight, 

When the sage Douglas may unite 

Each mountain clan in friendly band, 

To guard the passes of their land, 

Till the foded King from pathless glen 

Shall bootless turn him home again." 



XXXI. 

There are who have, at midnight houi*, 
In slumber scaled a dizzy tower, 
And, on the verge that beetled o'ei 



THE ISLAND. 109 

The ocean tide's incessant roar, 

Dreamed calmly out their dangerous dream, 

Till wakened by the morning beam ; 

When, dazzled by the eastern glow, 

Such startler cast his glance below, 

And saw unmeasured depth around, 

And heard unintermitted sound, 

And thought the battled fence so frail, 

It waved like cobweb in the gale ; — 

Amid his senses' giddy wheel, 

Did he not desperate impulse feel, 

Headlong to plunge himself below, 

And meet the worst his fears foreshow ? — ■ 

Thus Ellen, dizzy and astound, 

As sudden ruin yawned around, 

By crossing terrors wildly tossed, 

Still for the Douglas fearing most. 

Could scarce the desperate thought withstand, 

To buy his safety with her hand. 



XXXII. 

Such purpose dread could Malcolm spy 
In Ellen's quivering lip and eye. 
And eager rose to speak, — but ere 
His tongue could hurry forth his fear, 
Had Douglas marked the hectic strife, 
Where death seemed combating with life ; 
For to her cheek, in feverish flood, 
One instant rushed the throbbing blood, 



110 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Then ebbing back, with sudden sway, 
Left its domain as wan as clay. 
" Roderick, enough ! enough I " he cried, 
" My daughter cannot be thy bride ; 
Not that the blush to wooer dear, 
Nor paleness that of maiden fear. 
It may not be, — forgive her. Chief, 
Nor hazard aught for our relief. 
Against his sovereign, Douglas ne'er 
Will level a rebellious spear. 
'T was I that taught his youthful hand 
To rein a steed and wield a brand ; 
I see him yet, the princely boy ! 
Not Ellen more my pride and joy ; 
I love him still, despite my wrongs 
By hasty wrath and slanderous tongues. 
Oh, seek the grace you well may find. 
Without a cause to mine combined ! " 



XXXIII. 

Twice through the hall the Chieftain strode 
The waving of his tartans broad. 
And darkened brow, where wounded pride 
With ire and disappointment vied. 
Seemed, by the torch's gloomy light, 
Like the ill Demon of the night, 
Stooping his pinions' shadowy sway 
Upon the nighted pilgrim's way : 
But, unrequited Love ! thy dart 



THE ISLAND. Ill 

Plunged deepest its envenomed smart, 
And Roderick, with thine anguish stung, 
At length the hand of Douglas wrung. 
While eyes that mocked at tears before 
With bitter drops were running o'er. 
The death-pangs of long-cherished hope 
Scarce in that ample breast had scope, 
But, struggling with his spirit proud, 
Convulsive heaved its checkered shroud, 
While every sob — so mute were all — 
Was heard distinctly through the hall. 
The son's despair, the mother's look, 
111 might the gentle Ellen brook ; 
She rose, and to her side there came, 
To aid her parting steps, the Graeme. 



XXXIV. 

Then Roderick from the Douglas broke — 
As flashes flame through sable smoke, 
Kindling its wreaths, long, dark, and low, 
To one broad blaze of ruddy glow, 
So the deep anguish of despair 
Burst, in fierce jealousy, to air. 
With stalwart grasp his hand he laid 
On Malcolm's breast and belted plaid : 
" Back, beardless boy ! " he sternly said, 
" Back, minion ! holdst thou thus at nought 
The lesson I so lately taught ? 
This roof, the Douglas, and that maid. 



112 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Thank thou for punishment delayed." 

Eager as greyhound on his game, 

Fiercely with Koderick grappled Graeme. 

" Perish my name, if aught afford 

Its Chieftain safety save his sword!" 

Thus as they strove their desperate hand 

Griped to the dagger or the brand, 

And death had been — but Douglas rose, 

And thrust between the struggling foes 

His giant strength : — " Chieftains, forego ! 

1 hold the" first wdio strikes my foe. — 

Madmen, forbear your frantic jar ! 

What ! is the Douglas fallen so far, 

His daughter's hand is deemed the spoil 

Of such dishonorable broil ? " 

Sullen and slowly they unclasp, 

As struck \f\i\\ shame, their desperate grasp, 

And each upon his rival glared, 

With foot advanced and blade half bared. 



XXXV. 

Ere yet the brands aloft were flung, 
Margaret on Roderick's mantle hung, 
And Malcolm heard his Ellen's scream, 
As faltered through terrific dream. 
Then Roderick plunged in sheath his sword, 
And veiled his wrath in scornful word ; 
" Rest safe till morning ; pity 't were 
Such cheek sliould feel the midnight air! 



THE ISLAND. 113 

Then mayst thou to James Stuart tell, 

Roderick will keep the lake and fell, 

Nor lackey with his freeborn clan 

The pageant pomp of earthly man. 

More would he of Clan- Alpine know, 

Thou canst our strength and passes show. — 

Malise, what ho ! " — his henchman came : 

" Give our safe-conduct to the Greeme." 

Young Malcolm answered, calm and bold : 

*' Fear nothing for thy favorite hold ; 

The spot an angel deigned to grace 

Is blessed, though robbers haunt the place. 

Thy churlish courtesy for those 

Reserve, who fear to be thy foes. 

As safe to me the mountain way 

At midnight as in blaze of day, 

Though with his boldest at his back 

Even Roderick Bhu beset the track. — • 

Brave Douglas, — lovely Ellen, — nay, 

Nought here of parting will I say. 

Earth does not hold a lonesome glen 

So secret but we meet again. — 

Chieftain ! we too shall find an hour," — ^ 

He said, and left the sylvan bower. 



XXXVI. 

Old Allan followed to the strand — 
Such was the Douglas's command — 
And anxious told, how, on the morn, 



114 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



The stern Sir Eoderick deep had sworn, 
The Fiery Cross sliould circle o'er 
Dale, glen, and valley, down and moor. 
Mucli were the peril to the Graeme 




From those who to the signal came ; 
Far up the lake 't were safest land, 
Himself would row liim to the strand. 
He gave liis counsel to the wdnd, 



THE ISLAND. 115 

While Malcolm did, unheeding, bind, 

Eound dirk and pouch and broadsword rolled, 

His ample plaid in tightened fold. 

And stripped his limbs to such array 

As best might suit the watery way, — 



XXXVII. 

Then spoke abrupt : " Farewell to thee. 

Pattern of old fidelity ! " 

The Minstrel's hand he kindly pressed, — 

" Oh, could I point a place of rest ! 

My sovereign holds in ward my land, 

My uncle leads my vassal band ; 

To tame his foes, his friends to aid. 

Poor Malcolm has but heart and blade. 

Yet, if there be one faithful Graeme 

Who loves the chieftain of his name. 

Not long shall honored Douglas dwell 

Like hunted stag in mountain cell ; 

Nor, ere yon pride-swollen robber dare, — 

I may not give the rest to air ! 

Tell Roderick Dhu I owed him nought, 

Not the poor service of a boat, 

To waft me to you mountain-side." 

Then plunged he in the flashing tide. 

Bold o'er the flood his head he bore. 

And stoutly steered him from the shore ; 

And Allan strained his anxious eye. 

Far mid the lake his form to spy. 



116 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



Darkening across each puny wave, 
To which the moon her silver gave. 
Fast as the cormorant could skim, 
The swimmer plied each active limb 
Then landing in the moonlight dell, 
Loud shouted of his weal to tell. 
The Minstrel heard the far halloo. 
And joyful from the shore withdrew. 




"Tr^ 



^^J^::^^^^ 



CANTO THIRD. 

THE GATHERING. 



The Gathering 




IN LENY PASS 



CANTO THIED. 



THE GATHEEING. 



Time rolls liis ceaseless course. The race of yore, 

Who danced our infancy upon their knee, 
And told our marvelling boyhood legends store 

Of their strange ventures happed by land or sea. 
How are they blotted from the things that be ! 

How few, all weak and withered of their force. 
Wait on the verge of dark eternity. 

Like stranded wrecks, the tide returning hoarse. 
To sweep them from our sight ! Time rolls his ceaseless 
course. 

Yet live there still who can remember well, 

How, when a mountain chief his bugle blew, 
Both field and forest, dingle, cliff, and dell. 

And solitary heath, the signal knew ; 
And fast the faithful clan around him drew, 

What time the warning note was keenly wound, 
What time aloft their kindred banner flew, 

While clamorous war-pipes yelled the gathering sound, 
And while the Fiery Cross glanced, like a meteor, round. 



122 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



II. 



The Summer dawn's reflected hue 

To purple changed Loch Katrine blue ; 

Mildly and soft the western breeze 

Just kissed the lake, just stirred the trees, 

And the pleased lake, like maiden coy, 

Trembled but dimpled not for joy: 

The mountain-shadows on her breast 

Were neitlier broken nor at rest ; 

In bright uncertainty they lie. 

Like future joys to Fancy's eye. 

The water-lily to the light 

Her chalice reared of silver bright ; 

The doe awoke, and to the lawn, 

Begemmed with dew-drops, led her fawn ; 

The gray mist left the mountain-side. 

The torrent showed its glistening pride ; 

Invisible in flecked sky 

The lark sent down her revelry ; 

The blackbird and the speckled thrush 

Good-morrow gave from brake and bush ; 

In answer cooed the cushat dove 

Her notes of peace and rest and love. 



III. 



No thought of peace, no thought of rest, 
Assuaged the storm in Eoderick's breast. 



THE GATHERING. 123 

With sheathed broadsword in his hand, 

Abrupt he paced the islet strand, 

And eyed the rising sun, and laid 

His hand on his impatient blade. 

Beneath a rock, his vassals' care 

Was prompt the ritual to prepare. 

With deep and deathful meaning fraught : 

Tor such Antiquity liad taught 

Was preface meet, ere yet abroad 

The Cross of Fire should take its road. 

The shrinking band stood oft aghast 

At the impatient glance he cast ; — 

Such glance the mountain eagle threw, 

As, from the cliffs of Benvenue, 

Slie spread her dark sails on the wind, 

And, high in middle heaven reclined. 

With her broad shadow on the lake, 

Silenced the warblers of the brake. 



A heap of withered boughs was piled, 
Of juniper and rowan wild. 
Mingled Avith shivers from the oak, 
Rent by the lightning's recent stroke. 
Brian the Hermit by it stood. 
Barefooted, in his frock and hood. 
His grizzled beard and matted hair 
Obscured a visage of despair; 
His naked arms and legs, seamed o'er, 



lU 



THE LADT OF THE LAKE. 




Tlie scars of frantic penance bore. 
That monk, of savage form and face, 
The impending danger of his race 
Had drawn from deepest solitude. 
Far in Benharrow's bosom rude. 



THE GATHHEING, 1^5 

Not his tlie mien of Christian priest, 

But Druid's, from the grave released, 

Whose hardened heart and eye might brook 

On human sacrifice to look ; 

And much, 't was said, of heathen lore 

Mixed in the charms he muttered o'er. 

The hallowed creed gave only worse 

And deadlier emphasis of curse. 

No peasant sought tliat Hermit's prayer. 

His cave the pilgrim shunned with care ; 

The eager huntsman knew his bound, 

And in mid chase called off his hound ; 

Or if, in lonely glen or strath, 

The desert-dweller met his path. 

He prayed, and signed the cross between, 

While terror took devotion's mien. 



Of Brian's birth strange tales were told. 
His mother watched a midnight fold. 
Built deep within a dreary glen, 
Where scattered lay the bones of men 
In some forgotten battle slain. 
And bleached by drifting wind and rain, 
It might have tamed a wamor's heart 
To view such mockery of his art ! 
The knot-grass fettered there the hand 
Which once could burst an iron band ; 
Beneath the broad and ample bone. 



126 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

That bucklered heart to fear unknown, 

A feeble and a timorous guest, 

The fieldfare framed her lowly nest ; 

There the slow blindworm left his slime 

On the fleet limbs that mocked at time ; 

And there, too, lay the leader's skull, 

Still wreathed with chaplet, flushed and full, 

For heath-bell with her purple bloom 

Supplied the bonnet and the plume. 

All night, in this sad glen, the maid 

Sat shrouded in her mantle's shade : 

She said no shepherd sought her side, 

No hunter's hand her snood untied, 

Yet ne'er again to braid her hair 

The virgin snood did Alice wear ; 

Gone was her maiden glee and sport, 

Her maiden girdle all too short, 

Nor sought she, from that fatal night, 

Or holy church or blessed rite. 

But locked her secret in her breast, 

And died in travail, unconfessed. 



VI. 

Alone, among his young compeers, 
Was Brian from his infant years ; 
A moody and heart-broken boy, 
Estranged from sympathy and joy, 
Bearing each taunt which careless tongue 
On his mvsterious lineage flung. 



THE GATHERING. 127 

Whole nights he spent by moonlight pale, 
To wood and stream his hap to wail, 
Till, frantic, he as truth received 
What of his birth the crowd believed, 
And sought, in mist and meteor fire. 
To meet and know his Phantom Sire ! 
In vain, to soothe his wayward fate, 
The cloister oped her pitying gate ; 
In vain the learning of the age 
Unclasped the sable-lettered page ; 
Even in its treasures he could find 
Food for the fever of his mind. 
Eager he read whatever tells 
Of magic, cabala, and spells. 
And every dark pursuit allied 
To curious and presumptuous pride ; 
Till with fired brain and nerves o'erstrung, 
And heart with mystic horrors wrung, 
Desperate he sought Benharrow's den, 
And hid him from the haunts of men. 



VII. 

The desert gave him visions wild, 
Such as might suit the spectre's child. 
Where with black cliffs the torrents toil, 
He watched the wheeling eddies boil. 
Till from their foam his dazzled eyes 
Beheld the Eiver Demon rise : 
The mountain mist took form and limb 



128 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Of noontide hag or goblin grim ; 

The midnight wind came wild and dread, 

Swelled with the voices of the dead ; 

Far on the future hattle-heath 

His eye beheld the ranks of death : 

Thus the lone Seer, from mankind hurled, 

Shaped forth a disembodied world. 

One lingering sympathy of mind 

Still bound him to the mortal kind ; 

The only parent he could claim 

Of ancient Alpine's lineage came. 

Late had he heard, in prophet's dream. 

The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream ; 

Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast 

Of charging steeds, careering fast 

Along Benharrow's shingly side. 

Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride ; 

The thunderbolt had split the pine, — 

All augured ill to Alpine's line. 

He girt his loins, and came to show 

The signals of impending woe, 

And now stood prompt to bless or ban, 

As bade the Chieftain of his clan. 



VIII. 

'T was all prepared ; — and from the rock 
A goat, the patriarch of the flock. 
Before the kindling pile was laid. 
And pierced by Eoderick's ready blade. 



THE GATHERING. 129 

Patient the sickening victim eyed 
The life-blood ebb in crimson tide 
Down his clogged beard and shaggy limb, 
Till darkness glazed his eyeballs dim. 
The grisly priest, with murmuring prayer, 
A slender crosslet framed with care, 
A cubit's length in measure due; 
The shaft and limbs were rods of yew, 
Whose parents in Inch-Cailliach wave 
Their shadows o'er Clan-Alpine's grave, 
And, answering Lomond's breezes deep. 
Soothe many a chieftain's endless sleep. 
The Cross thus formed he held on high, 
With wasted hand and haggard eye, 
And strange and mingled feelings woke, 
While his anathema he spoke : — 



IX. 

" Woe to the clansman who shall view 
This symbol of sepulchral yew, 
Forgetful that its branches grew 
Where weep the heavens their holiest dew 

On Alpine's dwelling low ! 
Deserter of his Chieftain's trust. 
He ne'er shall mingle with their dust. 
But, from his sires and kindred thrust. 
Each clansman's execration just 

Shall doom him \\Tath and woe." 
He paused ; — the word the vassals took. 



130 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

With forward step and fiery look, 

On high their naked brands they shook, 

Their clattering targets wildly strook ; 

And first in murmur low, 
Then, like the billow in his course. 
That far to seaward finds his source, 
And flings to shore his mustered force, 
Burst with loud roar their answer hoarse, 

" Woe to the traitor, woe ! " 
Ben-an's gray scalp the accents knew, 
The joyous wolf from covert drew. 
The exulting eagle screamed afar, — 
They knew the voice of Alpine's war. 



The shout was hushed on lake and fell, 
The Monk resumed his muttered spell : 
Dismal and low its accents came. 
The while he scathed the Cross with flame 
And the few words that reached the air, 
Although the holiest name was there, 
Had more of blasphemy than prayer. 
But when he shook above the crowd 
Its kindled points, he spoke aloud : — 
"Woe to the wretch who fails to rear 
At this dread sign the ready spear ! 
Por, as the flames this symbol sear. 
His home, the refuge of his fear, 
A kindred fate shall know ; 



THE GATHERING. 



131 





Far o'er its roof the volumed flame 
Clan-Alpine's vengeance shall proclaim, 
While maids and matrons on his name 
Shall call down wretchedness and shame, 
And infamy and woe." 



132 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Then rose tlie cry of females, shrill 
As goshawk's whistle on the hill, 
Denouncing misery and ill, 
Mingled with childhood's babbling trill 

Of curses stammered slow ; 
Answering with imprecation dread, 
" Sunk be his home in embers red ! 
And cursed be the meanest shed 
That e'er shall hide the houseless head 

We doom to want and woe ! " 
A sharp and shrieking echo gave, 
Coir-Uriskin, thy goblin cave ! 
And the gray pass where birches wave 

On Beala-nam-bo. 



XI. 



Then deeper paused the priest anew, 
And hard his laboring breath he drew, 
While, with set teeth and clenched hand; 
And eyes that glowed like fiery brand, 
He meditated curse more dread. 
And deadlier, on the clansman's head 
Who, summoned to his chieftain's aid, 
The signal saw and disobeyed. 
The crosslet's points of sparkling wood 
He quenched among the bubbling blood. 
And, as again the sign he reared, 
HolloAv and hoarse his voice Avas heard : 



THE GATHERING. 133 

" When flits this Cross from man to man, 
Vich- Alpine's summons to his clan. 
Burst be the ear that fails to heed ! 
Palsied the foot that shuns to speed ! 
May ravens tear the careless eyes, 
Wolves make the coward heart their prize ! 
As sinks that blood-stream in the earth, 
So may his heart's-blood drench his hearth ! 
As dies in hissing gore the spark. 
Quench thou his light, Destruction dark ! 
And be the grace to him denied, 
Bought by this sign to all beside ! " 
He ceased ; no echo gave again 
The murmur of the deep Amen. 



XII. 

Then Roderick with impatient look 
From Brian's hand the symbol took : 
" Speed, Malise, speed! " he said, and gave 
The crosslet to his henchman brave. 
"The muster-place be Lanrick mead — 
Instant the time — speed, Malise, speed ! " 
Like heath-bird, when the hawks pursue, 
A barge across Loch Katrine flew : 
High stood the henchman on the prow ; 
So rapidly the barge-men row. 
The bubbles, where they launched the boat, 
Were all unbroken and afloat, 



134 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Dancing in foam and ripple still, 
When it had neared the mainland hill 
And from the silver beach's side 
Still was the prow three fathom wide, 
When lightly bounded to the land 
The messeuo;er of blood and brand. 



XTII. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! the dun deer's hide 
On fleeter foot was never tied. 
Speed, Malise, speed ! such cause of haste 
Thine active sinews never braced. 
Bend 'gainst the steepy hill thy breast, 
Burst down like torrent from its crest ; 
With short and springing footstep pass 
The trembling bog and false morass ; 
Across the brook like roebuck bound, 
And thread the brake like questing hound ; 
The crag is high, the scaur is deep, 
Yet shrink not from the desperate leap : 
Parched are thy burning lips and brow, 
Yet by the fountain pause not now ; 
Herald of battle, fate, and fear. 
Stretch onward in thy fleet career ! 
The wounded hind thou track'st not now, 
Pursuest not maid through greenwood bough 
Nor pliest thou now thy flying pace 
With rivals in the mountain race ; 



THE GATHERING. 135 

But danger, death, and warrior deed 
Are in thy course — speed, Malise, speed! 



XIV. 

Fast as the fatal symbol flies, 
In arms the huts and hamlets rise ; 
From winding; glen, from upland brown. 
They poured each hardy tenant down. 
Nor slacked the messenger his pace ; 
He showed the sign, he named the place, 
And, pressing forward like the wind, 
Left clamor and surprise behind. 
The fisherman forsook the strand, 
The swarthy smith took dirk and brand ; 
With changed cheer, the mower blithe 
Left in the half-cut swath his scythe ; 
The herds without a keeper strayed. 
The plough was in mid-furrow stayed, 
The falconer tossed his hawk away. 
The hunter left the stag at bay ; 
Prompt at the signal of alarms, 
Each son of Alpine rushed to arms ; 
So swept the tumult and aifray 
Along the margin of Achray. 
Alas, thou lovely lake ! that e'er 
Thy banks should echo sounds of fear ! 
The rocks, the bosky thickets, sleep 
So stilly on thy bosom deep. 



136 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The lark's blithe carol from the cloud 
Seems for the scene too gayly loud. 



XV. 

Speed, Malise, speed ! The lake is past, 

Duncraggan's huts appear at last, 

And peep, like moss-grown rocks, half seen, 

Half hidden in the copse so green ; 

There mayst thou rest, thy labor done. 

Their lord shall speed the signal on. — 

As stoops the hawk upon his prey, 

The henchman shot him down the way. 

What woful accents load the gale ? 

The funeral yell, the female wail ! 

A gallant hunter's sport is o'er, 

A valiant warrior fights no more. 

Who, in the battle or the chase, 

At Roderick's side shall fill his place ! — 

Within the hall, where torch's ray 

Supplies the excluded beams of day, 

Lies Duncan on his lowly bier. 

And o'er him streams his widow's tear. 

His stripling son stands mournful by, 

His youngest weeps, but knows not why ; 

The village maids and matrons round 

The dismal coronach resound. 



THE GATHERING. 137 



XVI. 



CORONACH. 



He is gone on the mountain, 

He is lost to tlie forest, 
Like a summer-dried fountain, 

Wlien our need was the sorest. 
TSie font, reappearing. 

From the rain-drops shall borrow, 
But to us comes no cheering, 

To Duncan no morrow ! 

The hand of the reaper 

Takes the ears that are hoary. 
But the voice of the weeper 

Wails manhood in glory. 
The autumn winds rushing 

Waft the leaves that are searest, 
But our flower was in flushing. 

When blighting was nearest. 

Pleet foot on the correi, 

Sage counsel in cumber, 
Red hand in the foray. 

How sound is thy slumber ! 
Like the dew on the mountain. 

Like the foam on the river. 
Like the bubble on the fountain. 

Thou art i?one, and forever ! 



138 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XVII. 

See Stumali, who, the bier beside, 
His master's corpse with wonder eyed. 
Poor Stumah ! whom his least halloo 
Could send like lightning o'er the dew, 
Bristles his crest, and points his ears, 
As if some stranger step he hears. 
'T is not a mourner's muffled tread, $ 
Who comes to sorrow o'er the dead. 
But headlong haste or deadly fear 
Urge the precipitate career. 
All stand aghast : — unheeding all, 
The henchman bursts into the hall ; 
Before the dead man's bier he stood. 
Held forth the Cross besmeared with blood 
" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! clansmen, speed ! " 



XYITI. 

Angus, the heir of Duncan's line, 
Sprung forth and seized the fatal sign. 
In haste the stripling to his side 
His father's dirk and broadsword tied ; 
But when he saw his mother's eye 
Watch him in speechless agony, 
Back to her opened arms he flew, 
Pressed on her lips a fond adieu, — 



THE GATHERING . 139 

" Alas ! " she sobbed, — " and yet be gone. 

And speed thee forth, like Duncan's son ! " 

One look he cast upon the bier. 

Dashed from his eye the gathering tear, 

Breathed deep to clear his laboring breast, 

And tossed aloft his bonnet crest. 

Then, like the high-bred colt when, freed. 

First he essays his fire and speed, 

He vanished, and o'er moor and moss 

Sped forward with the Fiery Cross. 

Suspended was the widow's tear 

While yet his footsteps she could hear ; 

And when she marked the henchman's eye 

Wet with unwonted sympathy, 

" Kinsman," she said, " his race is run 

That should have sped thine errand on ; 

The oak has fallen, — the sapling bough 

Is all Duncraggan's shelter now. 

Yet trust I well, his duty done. 

The orphan's God will guard my son. — 

And you, in many a danger true, 

At Duncan's best your blades that drew, 

To arms, and guard that orphan's head ! 

Let babes and women wail the dead." 

Then weapon-clang and martial call 

Eesounded through the funeral hall, 

While from the walls the attendant band 

Snatched sword and targe with hurried hand ; 

And short and flitting energy 

Glanced from the mourner's sunken eye, 



140 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

As if the sounds to warrior dear 

Might rouse her Duncan from his bier. 

But faded soon that borrowed force ; 

Grief claimed his right, and tears their course. 



XIX. 

Benledi saw the Cross of Pire, 

It glanced like lightning up Strath-Ire. 

O'er dale and hill the summons flew, 

Nor rest nor pause young Angus knew ; 

The tear that gathered in his eye 

He left the mountain-breeze to dry ; 

Until, where Teith's young waters roll 

Betwixt him and a wooded knoll 

That graced the sable strath with green. 

The chapel of Saint Bride was seen. 

Swoln was the stream, remote the bridge. 

But Angus paused not on the edge ; 

Though the dark waves danced dizzily, 

Though reeled his sympathetic eye, 

He dashed amid the torrent's roar : 

His right hand high the crosslet bore, 

His left the pole-axe grasped, to guide 

And stay his footing in the tide. 

He stumbled twice, — the foam splashed high. 

With hoarser swell the stream raced by ; 

And had he fallen, — forever there. 

Farewell Duncraggan's orphan heir ! 



THE GATHERING. 141 

But still, as if in parting life, 
Firmer he grasped the Cross of strife. 
Until the opposing bank he gained, 
And up the chapel pathway strained. 



XX. 

A blithesome rout that morning-tide 
Had sought the chapel of Saint Bride. 
Her troth Tombea's Mary gave 
To Norman, heir of Armandave, 
And, issuing from the Gothic arch. 
The bridal now resumed their march. 
In rude but glad procession came 
Bonneted sire and coif-clad dame ; 
And plaided youth, with jest and jeer. 
Which snooded maiden would not hear ; 
And children, that, unwitting why, 
Lent the gay shout their shrilly cry ; 
And minstrels, that in measures vied 
Before the young and bonny bride, 
Whose downcast eye and cheek disclose 
The tear and blush of morning rose. 
With virgin step and bashful hand 
She held the kerchief's snowy band. 
The gallant bridegroom by her side 
Beheld his prize with victor's pride, 
And the glad mother in lier ear 
Was closely whispering word of cheer. 



142 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

XXI. 

Who meets tliem at tlie churchyard gate ? 
The messenger of fear and fate ! 
Haste in his hurried accent lies, 
And grief is swimming in his eyes. 
All dripping from the recent flood, 
Panting and travel-soiled he stood, 
The fatal sign of fire and sword 
Held forth, and spoke the appointed word 
" The muster-place is Lanrick mead ; 
Speed forth the signal ! Norman, speed ! " 
And must he change so soon the hand 
Just linked to his by holy band, 
For the fell Cross of blood and brand ? 
And must the day so blithe that rose. 
And promised rapture in the close, 
Before its setting hour, divide 
The bridegroom from the plighted bride ? 
fatal doom ! — it must ! it must ! 
Clan-Alpine's cause, her Chieftain's trust, 
Her summons dread, brook no delay ; 
Stretch to the race, — away ! aw^ay ! 



XXII. 

Yet slow^ he laid his plaid aside, 
And lingering eyed his lovely bride, 
Until he saw the starting tear 
Speak woe he might not stop to cheer; 



THE GATHERING. 143 

Then, trusting not a second look, 

III haste he sped him up the brook. 

Nor backward glanced till on the heath 

Where Lubnaig's lake supplies the Teith. — 

What in the racer's bosom stirred ? 

The sickening pang of hope deferred, 

And memory with a torturing train 

Of all his morning visions vain. 

Mingled with love's impatience, came 

The manly thirst for martial fame ; 

The stormy joy of mountaineers 

Ere yet they rush upon the spears ; 

And zeal for Clan and Chieftain burning. 

And hope, from well-fought field returning, 

With war's red honors on his crest, 

To clasp his Mary to his breast. 

Stung by such thoughts, o'er bank and brae, 

Like fire from flint he glanced away, 

While high resolve and feeling strong 

Burst into voluntary song. 



XXIII. 
SONG. 

The heath this night must be my bed, 
The bracken curtain for my head, 
My lullaby the warder's tread, 

Far, far, from love and thee, Mary : 



144 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

To-moiTOW eve, more stilly laid, 
]\Iy couch may be my bloody plaid, 
My vesper song thy wail, sweet maid ! 
It will not waken me, Mary ! 

I may not, dare not, fancy now 

The grief that clouds thy lovely brow, 

I dare not think upon thy vow, 

And all it promised me, Mary. 
No fond regret must Norman know ; 
When bursts Clan- Alpine on the foe. 
His heart must be like bended bow, 

His foot like arrow free, INlary. 

A time will come with feeling fraught, 
For, if I fall in battle fought^. 
Thy hapless lover's dying thought 

Shall be a thought on thee, Mary. 
And if returned from conquered foes, 
How blithely will the evening close. 
How sweet the linnet sing repose. 

To my young bride and me, Mary ! 

XXIV. 

Not faster o'er thy heathery braes, 
Balquidder, speeds the midnight blaze, 
Rushing in conflagration strong 
Thy deep ravines and dells along, 
"Wrapping thy cliffs in purple glow, 
And reddening the dark lakes below ; 



THE GATHERING. 145 

Nor faster speeds it, nor so far, 

As o'er thy heaths the voice of war. 

The signal roused to martial coil 

The sullen margin of Loch Voil, 

Waked still Loch Doine, and to the source 

Alarmed, Balvaig, thy swampy course ; 

Thence southward turned its rapid road 

Adown Strath-Gartney's valley broad. 

Till rose in arms each man might claim 

A portion in Clan- Alpine's name, 

From the gray sire, whose trembling hand 

Could hardly buckle on his brand, 

To the raw boy, whose shaft and bow 

Were yet scarce terror to the crow. 

Each valley, each sequestered glen. 

Mustered its little horde of men. 

That met as torrents from the height 

In Highland dales their streams unite, 

Still gathering, as they pour along, 

A voice more loud, a tide more strong, 

Till at the rendezvous they stood 

By hundreds prompt for blows and blood, 

Each trained to arms since life began, 

Owning no tie but to his clan, 

No oath but by his chieftain's hand. 

No law but Eoderick Dhu's command. 

XXV. 

That summer morn had Roderick Dhu 
Surveved the skirts of Benvenue, 



146 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And sent his scouts o'er hill and lieath, 
To view the frontiers of Menteith. 
All backward came with news of truce ; 
Still lay each martial Grraeme and Bruce, 
In Eednock courts no horsemen wait, 
No banner waved on Cardross gate, 
On Duchray's towers no beacon shone, 
Nor scared the herons from Loch Con ; 
All seemed at peace. — Now wot ye why 
The Chieftain with such anxious eye, 
Ere to the muster he repair. 
This western frontier scanned with care ? 
In Benvenue's most darksome cleft, 
A fair though cruel pledge was left ; 
For Douglas, to his promise true, 
That morning from the isle withdrew. 
And in a deep sequestered dell 
Had sought a low and lonely cell. 
By many a bard in Celtic tongue 
Has Coir-nan-Uriskin been sung ; 
A softer name the Saxons gave, 
And called the "rrot the Goblin Cave. 



XXVI. 

It was a wild and strange retreat, 
As e'er was trod by outlaw's feet. 
The dell, upon the mountain's crest, 
Yawned like a gash on warrior's breast ; 
Its trench had stayed full many a rock, 



THE GATHERING. 147 

Hurled by primeval earthquake shock 
From Benvenue's gray summit wild, 
And here, in random ruin piled, 
They frowned incumbent o'er the spot, 
And formed the rugged sylvan grot. 
The oak and birch with mingled shade 
At noontide there a twilight made, 
Unless when short and sudden shone 
Some straggling beam on cliff or stone, 
With such a glimpse as prophet's eye 
Gains on thy depth, Futurity. 
No murmur waked the solemn still. 
Save tinkling of a fountain rill ; 
But when the Avind chafed with the lake, 
A sullen sound would upward break, 
With dashing hollow voice, that spoke 
The incessant war of wave and rock. 
Suspended cliff's with hideous sway 
Seemed nodding o'er the cavern gray. 
From such a den the wolf had sprung. 
In such the wild-cat leaves her ycung ; 
Yet Douglas and his daughter fair 
Sought for a space their safety there. 
Gray Superstition's whisper dread 
Debarred the spot to vulgar tread ; 
For there, she said, did fays resort. 
And satyrs hold their sylvan court, 
By moonlight tread their mystic maze, 
And blast the rash beholder's gaze. 



148 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XXVII. 

Now eve, with western shadows long, 

Floated on Katrine bright and strong, 

When Eoderick with a chosen few 

Eepassed the heights of Benvenue. 

Above the Goblin Cave they go, 

Through the wild pass of Beal-nam-bo ; 

The prompt retainers speed before, 

To launch the shallop from the shore, 

For 'cross Loch Katrine lies his way 

To view the passes of Achray, 

And place his clansmen in array. 

Yet lags the Chief in musing mind, 

Unwonted sight, his men behind. 

A single page, to bear his sword, 

Alone attended on his lord ; 

The rest their way through thickets break, 

And soon await him by the lake. 

It was a fair and gallant sight. 

To view them from the neighboring height. 

By the low-levelled sunbeam's light ! 

For strength and stature, from the clan 

Each Avarrior was a chosen man, 

As even afar might well be seen. 

By their proud step and martial mien. 

Their feathers dance, their tartans float, 

Their targets gleam, as by the boat 

A wild and warlike group they stand. 

That well became such mountain-strand. 



THE GATHERING. 149 



XXVIII. 



Their Chief with step reluctant still 
Was lingering on the craggy hill, 
Hard by where turned apart the road 
To Douglas's obscure abode. 
It was but witb that dawning morn 
That Koderick Dliu had proudly sworn 
To drown his love in war's wild roar, 
Nor think of Ellen Douglas more ; 
But he who stems a stream with sand. 
And fetters flame with flaxen band, 
Has yet a harder task to prove, — 
By firm resolve to conquer love ! 
Eve finds the Chief, like restless ghost, 
Still hovering near his treasure lost ; 
For though his haughty heart deny 
A parting meeting to his eye. 
Still fondly strains his anxious ear 
The accents of her voice to hear. 
And inly did he curse the breeze 
That waked to sound the rustling trees. 
But hark ! what mingles in the strain ? 
It is the harp of Allan-bane, 
That wakes its measure slow and high, 
Attuned to sacred minstrelsy. 
What melting voice attends the strings ? 
'T is Ellen, or an angel, sings. 



150 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, 



XXIX. 

HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. 

Ave Maria ! maiden mild ! 

Listen to a maiden's prayer ! 
Thou canst hear though from the wild. 

Thou canst save amid despair. 
Safe may we sleep beneath thy care, 

Though banished, outcast, and reviled — 
Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer ; 

Mother, hear a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria I 

Ave Maria / undefiled ! 

The flinty couch we now must share 
Shall seem with down of eider piled, 

If thy protection hover there. 
The murky cavern's heavy air 

Shall breathe of balm if thou hast smiled ; 
Then, Maiden ! hear a maiden's prayer. 

Mother, list a suppliant child ! 

Ave Maria ! 

Ave Maria ! stainless styled ! 

!Foul demons of the earth and air, 
From this their wonted haunt exiled, 

Shall flee before thy presence fair. 



THE GATHERING, 151 

We bow us to our lot. of care, 

Beneath thy guidance reconciled : 
Hear for a maid a maiden's prayer. 

And for a father hear a child ! 

Ave Maria I 



XXX. 

Died on the harp the closing hymn, — • 
Unmoved in attitude and limb. 
As listening still, Clan- Alpine's lord 
Stood leaning on his heavy sword, 
Until the page with humble sign 
Twice pointed to the sun's decline. ^ 

Then while his plaid he round him cast, 
" It is the last time — 't is the last," 
He muttered thrice, — " the last time e'er 
That angel-voice shall Eoderick hear ! " 
It was a goading thought, — his stride 
Hied hastier down the mountain-side ; 
Sullen he flung him in the boat. 
An instant 'cross the lake it shot. 
They landed in that silvery bay. 
And eastward held their hasty way, 
Till, with the latest beams of light, 
The band arrived on Lanrick height, 
Where mustered in the vale below 
Clan-Alpine's men in martial show. 



152 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

XXXI. 

A various scene the clansmen made : 

Some sat, some stood, some slowly strayed ; 

But most, with mantles folded round, 

Were couched to rest upon the ground, 

Scarce to be known by curious eye 

From the deep heather where they lie, 

So well was matched the tartan screen 

With heath-bell dark and brackens green; 

Unless where, here and there, a blade 

Or lance's point a glimmer made, 

Like glow-worm twinkling through the shade. 

But when, advancing through the gloom, 

They saw the Chieftain's eagle plume, 

Their shout of welcome, shrill and wide. 

Shook the steep mountain's steady side. 

Thrice it arose, and lake and fell 

Three times returned the martial yell ; 

It died upon Bochastle's plain, 

And Silence claimed her evening reign. 



CANTO FOURTH. 

THE PROPHECV. 



The Prophecy 




ACHRAY WATER: THE FORD 



CANTO FOUETH. 



THE PROPHECY. 



" The rose is fairest when 't is budding new, 

And hope is brightest when it dawns from fears ; 
The rose is sweetest washed with morning dew, 

And love is loveliest when embalmed in tears. 
O wilding rose, whom fancy thus endears, 

I bid your blossoms in my bonnet wave. 
Emblem of hope and love through future years ! " 

Thus spoke young Norman, heir of Armandave, 
What time the sun arose on Vennachar's broad wave. 



II. 

Such fond conceit, half said, half sung. 

Love prompted to the bridegroom's tongue. 

All while he stripped the wild-rose spray, 

His axe and bow beside him lay. 

For on a pass 'twixt lake and wood 

A wakeful sentinel he stood. 

Hark ! — on the rock a footstep rung, 

And instant to his arms he sprung. 

" Stand, or thou diest ! — What, Malise ? — soon 



158 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



Art thou returned from Braes of Douue. 
By thy keen step and glance I know, 
Thou bring'st us tidings of the foe." — 




Tor while the Piery Cross hied on, 

On distant scout had Malise gone. — 

"Where sleeps the Chief?" the henchman said. 



THE PROPHECY. 159 

" Apart, in yonder misty glade ; 

To his lone couch I '11 be your guide." — 

Then called a sluniberer by his side, 

And stirred him with his slackened bow, — 

*' Up, up, Glentarkin ! rouse thee, ho ! 

We seek the Chieftain ; on the track 

Keep eagle watch till I come back." 



III. 

Together up the pass they sped : 

" What of the foeraan ? " Norman said. — 

" Varying reports from near and far ; 

This certain, — that a band of war 

Has for two days been ready boune. 

At prompt command to march from Doune ; 

King James the while, with princely powers, 

Holds revelry in Stirling towers. 

Soon will this dark and gathering cloud 

Speak on our glens in thunder loud. 

Inured to bide such bitter bout, 

The warrior's plaid may bear it out ; 

But, Norman, how wilt thou provide 

A shelter for thy bonny bride ? " — 

" What ! know ye not that Roderick's care 

To the lone isle hath caused repair 

Each maid and matron of the clan. 

And every child and aged man 

Unfit for arms ; and given his charge, 

Nor skiff nor shallop, boat nor barge, 



160 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Upon these lakes shall float at large, 

But all beside the islet moor, 

That such dear pledge may rest secure ? 



IV. 

" 'T is well advised, — the Chieftain's plan 

Bespeaks the father of his clan. 

But wherefore sleeps Sir Roderick Dhu 

Apart from all his followers true ? " 

" It is because last evening-tide 

Brian an augury hath tried, 

Of that dread kind which must not be 

Unless in dread extremity, 

The Taghairm called ; by which, afar, 

Our sires foresaw the events of war. 

Duncraggan's milk-white bull they slew," — 



" Ah ! well the gallant brute I knew ! 
The choicest of the prey we had 
When swept our merrymen Gallangad. 
His hide was snow, his horns were dark, 
His red eye glowed like fiery spark ; 
So fierce, so tameless, and so fleet. 
Sore did he cumber our retreat. 
And kept our stoutest kerns in awe. 
Even at the pass of Beal 'maha. 
But steep and flinty was the road. 
And sharp the hurrying pikeman's goad, 



TBE PROPHECY. 161 

And when we came to Uennan's Row 
A child might scathless stroke his brow." 



V. 



" That bull was slain ; his reeking hide 
They stretched the cataract beside, 
Whose waters their wild tumult toss 
Adown the black and craggy boss 
Of that huge cliff whose ample verge 
Tradition calls the Hero's Targe. 
Couched on a shelf beneath its brink. 
Close where the thundering torrents sink, 
Rocking beneath their headlong sway. 
And drizzled by the ceaseless spray, 
Midst groan of rock and roar of stream, 
The wizard waits prophetic dream. 
Nor distant rests the Chief; — but hush ! 
See, gliding slow through mist and bush. 
The hermit gains yon rock, and stands 
To gaze upon our slumbering bands. 
Seems he not, Malise, like a ghost. 
That hovers o'er a slaughtered host ? 
Or raven on the blasted oak, 
That, watching while the deer is broke. 
His morsel claims with sullen croak ? " 

MALISE, 

" Peace ! peace ! to other than to me 
Thy words were evil augury; 



62 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

But still I hold Sir Eoderick's blade 

Clan- Alpine's omen and her aid, 

Not aught that, gleaned from heaven or hell. 

Yon fiend-begotten Monk can tell. 

The Chieftain joins him, see — and now 

Together they descend the brow." 



VI. 

And, as they came, with Alpine's Lord 
The Hermit Monk held solemn word : — 
" Roderick ! it is a fearful strife, 
For man endowed with mortal life, 
Whose shroud of sentient clay can still 
Feel feverish pang and fainting chill. 
Whose eye can stare in stony trance. 
Whose hair can rouse like warrior's lance, 
'Tis hard for such to view, unfurled, 
The curtain of the future world. 
Yet, witness every quaking limb, 
My sunken pulse, mine eyeballs dim. 
My soul with harrowing anguish torn, 
This for my Chieftain have I borne ! — 
The shapes that sought my fearful couch 
A human tongue may ne'er avouch ; 
No mortal man — save he, who, bred 
Between the living and the dead, 
Is gifted beyond nature's law — 
Had e'er survived to say he saw. 
At length the fateful answer came 



THE PROPHECY. 163 

111 characters of living flame ! 
Not spoke in word, nor blazed in scroll, 
But borne and branded on my soul : — 
Which spills the foremost foeman's life, 
That party conquers in the strife." 



VII. 

*' Thanks, Brian, for thy zeal and care ! 

Good is thine augury, and fair. 

Clan-Alpine ne'er in battle stood 

But first our broadswords tasted blood. 

A surer victim still I know, 

Self-offered to the auspicious blow : 

A spy has sought my land this morn, — 

No eve shall witness his return ! 

My followers guard each pass's mouth. 

To east, to westward, and to south ; 

Red Murdoch, bribed to be his guide, 

Has charge to lead his steps aside, 

Till in deep path or dingle brown 

He light on those shall bring him down. ■ 

But see, who comes his news to show ! 

Malise ! what tidins-s of the foe ? " 



VIII. 

" At Donne, o'er many a spear and glaive 
Two Barons proud their banners wave. 
I saw the Moray's silver star. 



164 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



And marked the sable pale of Mar." 
" By Alpine's soul, high tidings those ! 
1 love to hear of worthy foes. 




When move they on ? " " To-morrow's noon 

Will see them here for battle boune." 

" Then shall it see a meeting stern ! 

But, for the place, — say, couldst thou learn 



THE PROPHECY. 165 

Nought of the friendly clans of Earn ? 

Strengthened by them, we well might bide 

The battle on Benledi's side. 

Thou couldst not ? — well ! Clan-Alpine's men 

Shall man the Trosachs' shaggy glen; 

Within Loch Katrine's gorge we '11 fight, 

All in our maids' and matrons' sight, 

Each for his hearth and household fire. 

Father for child, and son for sire. 

Lover for maid beloved ! — But why — 

Is it the breeze afl:ects mine eye ? 

Or dost thou come, ill-omened tear ! 

A messenger of doubt or fear ? 

No ! sooner may the Saxon lance 

Unfix Benledi from his stance, 

Than doubt or terror can pierce through 

The unyielding heart of Roderick Dhu ! 

'T is stubborn as his trusty targe. 

Each to his post ! — all know their charge." 

The pibroch sounds, the bands advance, 

The broadswords gleam, the banners dance, 

Obedient to the Chieftain's glance. — 

I turn me from the martial roar, 

And seek Coir-Uriskin once more. 



IX. 

Where is the Douglas ? — he is gone ; 
And Ellen sits on the gray stone 
East by the cave, and makes her moan, 



166 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

While vainly Allan's words of clieer 
Are poured on her unheeding- ear. 
" He will return — dear lady, trust ! — 
With joy return ; — he will — he must. 
Well was it time to seek afar 
Some refuge from impending war, 
When e'en Clan- Alpine's rugged swarm 
Are cowed by the approaching storm. 
I saw their boats with many a light, 
Floating the livelong yesternight, 
Shifting like flashes darted forth 
By the red streamers of the north ; 
I marked at morn how close they ride. 
Thick moored by the lone islet's side. 
Like wild ducks couching in the fen 
When stoops the hawk upon the glen. 
Since this rude race dare not abide 
The peril on the mainland side, 
Shall not thy noble father's care 
Some safe retreat for thee prepare?" 

X. 

ELLEN. 

" No, Allan, no ! Pretext so kind 
My wakeful terrors could not blind. 
When in such tender tone, yet grave, 
Douglas a parting blessing gave, 
The tear that glistened in his eye 
Drowned not his purpose fixed and high. 



THE PROPHECY. 167 

My soul, though feminine and weak, 

Can image his ; e'en as the lake, 

Itself disturbed by slightest stroke, 

Reflects the invulnerable rock. 

He hears report of battle rife. 

He deems himself the cause of strife. 

I saw him redden when the theme 

Turned, Allan, on thine idle dream 

Of Malcolm Graeme in fetters bound, 

Which I, thou saidst, about him wound. 

Think'st thou he trowed thine omen aught ? 

O no ! 't was apprehensive thought 

For the kind youth, — for Roderick too — 

Let me be just — that friend so true ; 

In danger both, and in our cause ! 

Minstrel, the Douglas dare not pause. 

Why else that solemn warning given, 

" If not on earth, we meet in heaven ! " 

Why else, to Cambus-kenneth's fane. 

If eve return him not again. 

Am I to hie and make me known? 

Alas ! he goes to Scotland's throne. 

Buys his friends' safety with his own ; 

He goes to do — what I had done. 

Had Douglas' dauo-hter been his son ! " 



XI. 

*' Nay, lovely Ellen ! — dearest, nay ! 
If aught should his return delay. 



168 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 




He only named yon holy fane 

As fitting place to meet again. 

Be sure he 's safe ; and for the Gneme, ■ 

Heaven's blessing on his gallant name ! 

My visioned sight may yet prove true, 

Nor bode of ill to him or you. 

When did my gifted dream beguile ? 



THE PROPHECY. 169 

Think of tlie stranger at the isle, 
x\nd think upon the harpings slow 
That presaged this approaching woe ! 
Sooth was my prophecy of fear ; 
Believe it when it augurs cheer. 
Would we had left this dismal spot ! 
Ill luck still haunts a fairy gTot. 
Of such a wondrous tale I know — 
Dear lady, change that look of woe, 
My harp was wont thy grief to cheer." 



" Well, be it as thou wilt ; I hear, 
But cannot stop the bursting tear.' 
The Minstrel tried his simple art, 
But distant far was Ellen's heart. 



XII. 
BALLAD. 

ALICE BRAND. 

Merry it is in the good greenwood. 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 

When the deer sweeps by, and the hounds are in cry, 
And the hunter's horn is ringing. 

*' O Alice Brand, my native land 

Is lost for love of you ; 
And we must hold by wood and wold, 

As outlaws wont to do. 



70 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so bright. 
And 't was all for thine e^^es so blue, 

That on the night of our luckless flight 
Thy brother bold I slew. 

" Now must I teach to hew the beech 

The hand that held the glaive, 
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, 

And stakes to fence our cave. 

" And for vest of pall, thy fingers small, 

That wont on harp to stray, 
A cloak must shear from the slaughtered deer, 

To keep the cold away." 

" O Eicliard ! if my brother died, 

'T was but a fatal chance ; 
For darkling was the battle tried. 

And fortune sped the lance. 

" If pall and vair no more I wear. 

Nor thou the crimson sheen. 
As warm, we '11 say, is the russet gray, 

As gay the forest-green. 

" And, Eichard, if our lot be hard, 

And lost thy native land. 
Still Alice has her own Richard, 

And he his Alice Brand." 



THE PROPHECY. 171 



XIII. 
BALLAD CONTINUED. 

'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood ; 

So blithe Lady Alice is singing ; 
On the beech's pride, and oak's brown side. 

Lord Eichard's axe is ringing. 

Up spoke the moody Elfin King, 

Who woned within the hill, — 
Like wind in the porch of a ruined church, 

His voice was ghostly shrill. 

" Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 

Our moonlight circle's screen ? 
Or who comes here to chase the deer, 

Beloved of our Elfin Queen ? 
Or who may dare on wold to wear 

The fairies' fatal green ? 

" Up, Urgan, up ! to yon mortal hie, 

For thou wert christened man ; 
For cross or sign thou wilt not fly, 

For muttered word or ban. 

" Lay on him the curse of the withered heart, 

The curse of the sleepless eye ; 
Till he wish and pray that his life would part, 

Nor yet find leave to die." 



17ii THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XIV. 



BALLAD CONTINUED. 



'T is merry, 't is merry, in good greenwood, 
Though the birds have stilled their singin^ 

The evening blaze doth Alice raise, 
And Richard is fagots bringing. 



Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf, 

Before Lord Richard stands. 
And, as he crossed and blessed himself, 
" I fear not sign," quoth tlie grisly elf, 

" That is made with bloody hands." 

But out then spoke she, Alice Brand, 

That woman void of fear, — 
" And if there 's blood upon his hand, 

'T is but the blood of deer." 

" Now loud thou best, thou bold of mood ! 

It cleaves unto his hand. 
The stain of thine own kindly blood, 

The blood of Ethert Brand." 

Then forward stepped she, Alice Brand, 

And made the holy sign, — 
" And if there 's blood on Richard's hand, 

A spotless hand is mine. 



THE PROPHECY. 173 

" And I conjure thee, demon elf, 

By Him whom demons fear. 
To show us whence thou art thyself, 

And what thine errand here? " 



XV. 

BALLAD CONTINUED. 

*' 'T is merry, 't is merry, in Eairy-land, 

When fairy birds are singing', 
Wlien the court doth ride by their monarch's side, 

With bit and bridle ringing : 

" And gayly shines the fairy-land — 

But all is glistening show, 
Like the idle gleam that December's beam 

Can dart on ice and snow. 

" And fading, like that varied gleam, 

Is our inconstant shape, 
Who now like knight and lady seem, 

And now like dwarf and ape. 

" It was between the night and day, 

When the Fairy King has power. 
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, 
And 'twixt life and death was snatched away 

To the joyless Elfin bower. 



174 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" But wist I of a woman bold, 
Who thrice my brow durst sign, 

I might regain my mortal mould, 
As fair a form as thine." 

She crossed him once — she crossed him twice ■ 

That lady was so brave ; 
The fouler grew his goblin hue, 

The darker grew the cave. 

She crossed him thrice, that lady bold ; 

He rose beneath her hand 
The fairest knight on Scottish mould, 

Her brother, Ethert Brand ! 

Merry it is in good greenwood, 

When the mavis and merle are singing, 

But merrier were they in Dunfermline gray, 
When all the bells were rino-ino^. 



XVI. 

Just as the minstrel sounds were stayed, 

A stranger climbed the steepy glade ; 

His martial step, his stately mien, 

His hunting-suit of Lincoln green, 

His eagle glance, remembrance claims — 

'T is Snowdoun's Knight, 't is James Pitz-James. 

Ellen beheld as in a dream, 

Then, starting, scarce suppressed a scream 



THE PROPHECY. 175 

" O stranger ! in such hour of fear 
What evil hap has brought thee here ? " 
" An evil hap how can it be 
That bids me look again on thee ? 
By promise bound, my former guide 
Met me betimes this morning-tide, 
And marshalled over bank and bourne 
The happy path of my return." 
" The happy path ! — what ! said he nought 
Of war, of battle to be fought. 
Of guarded pass ? " '* No, by my faith ! 
Nor saw I aught could augur scathe." 
" Oh, haste thee, Allan, to the kern : 
Yonder his tartans I discern ; 
Learn thou his purpose, and conjure 
That he will guide the stranger sure ! — 
What prompted thee, unhappy man ? 
The meanest serf in Eoderick's clan 
Had not been bribed, by love or fear, 
Unknown to him to guide thee here." 



XVII. 

" Sweet Ellen, dear my life must be, 

Since it is worthy care from thee ; 

Yet life I hold but idle breath 

When love or honor 's weighed with death. 

Then let me profit by my chance. 

And speak my purpose bold at once. 

I come to bear thee from a wild 



176 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Where ne'er before such blossom smiled, 

By this soft hand to lead thee far 

From frantic scenes of feud and war. 

Near Bochastle my horses wait ; 

They bear us soon to Stirling gate. 

I '11 place thee in a lovely bower, 

I '11 guard thee like a tender flower — " 

" Oh hush, Sir Knight ! 't were female art, 

To say I do not read thy heart ; 

Too much, before, my selfish ear 

Was idly soothed my praise to hear. 

That fatal bait hath lured thee back, 

In death ful hour, o'er dangerous track ; 

And how, oh how, can I atone 

The wreck my vanity brought on ! — 

One way remains — I '11 tell him all — 

Yes ! struggling bosom, forth it shall ! 

Thou, whose light folly bears the blame, 

Buy thine own pardon with thy shame 1 

But first — my father is a man 

Outlawed and exiled, under ban ; 

The price of blood is on his head. 

With me-'t were infamy to wed. 

Still wouldst thou speak ? — then hear the truth ! 

Fitz-James, there is a noble youth — 

If yet he is ! — exposed for me 

And mine to dread extremity — 

Thou hast the secret of my heart; 

Forgive, be generous, and depart ! '* 



TEE PROPHECY, 



177 




XVIII. 



Fitz-James knew every wily train 
A lady's fickle heart to gain, 
But here he knew and felt them vain. 
There shot no glance from Ellen's eye, 



178 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

To give her steadfast speech the lie ; 

111 maiden confidence she stood, 

Though mantled in her cheek the blood, 

And told her love with such a sigh 

Of deep and hopeless agony, 

As death had sealed her Malcolm's doom 

And she sat sorrowing on his tomb. 

Hope vanished from Fitz-James's eye, 

But not with hope fled sympathy. 

He profl:ered to attend her side. 

As brother would a sister guide. 

" Oh little know'st thou Eoderick's heart ! 

Safer for both we go apart. 

Oh haste thee, and from Allan learn 

If thou mayst trust yon wily kern." 

With hand upon his forehead laid. 

The conflict of his mind to shade, 

A parting step or two he made ; 

Then, as some thought had crossed his brain. 

He paused, and turned, and came again. 



XIX. 

" Here, lady, yet a parting word ! — 
It chanced in fight that my poor sword 
Preserved the life of Scotland's lord. 
This ring the grateful Monarch gave. 
And bade, when I had boon to crave. 
To bring it back, and boldly claim 
The recompense that I would name. 



THE PROPHECY, 179 

Ellen, I am no courtly lord, 

But one who lives by lance and sword, 

Whose castle is his helm and shield, 

His lordship the embattled field. 

What from a prince can I demand, 

Who neither reck of state nor land ? 

Ellen, thy hand — the ring is thine ; 

Each guard and usher knows the sign. 

Seek thou the King without delay ; 

This signet shall secure thy way : 

And claim thy suit, whate'er it be, 

As ransom of his pledge to me." 

He placed the golden circlet on. 

Paused — kissed her hand — and then was gone. 

The aged minstrel stood aghast, 

So hastily Fitz-James shot past. 

He joined his guide, and wending down 

The ridges of the mountain brown. 

Across the stream they took their way 

That joins Loch Katrine to Achray. 



XX. 

All in the Trosachs' glen was still. 

Noontide was sleeping on the hill : 

Sudden his guide whooped loud and high — 

" Murdoch ! was that a signal cry ? " — 

He stammered forth, " I shout to scare 

Yon raven from his dainty fare." 

He looked — he knew the raven's prey, 



180 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

His own brave steed : " Ah ! gallant gray 1 
Por thee — for me, perchance — 't were well 
We ne'er had seen the Trosachs' dell. — 
Murdoch, move first — but silently ; 
Whistle or whoop, and thou shalt die I " 
Jealous and sullen on they fiired, 
Each silent, each upon his guard. 



XXI. 

Now wound the path its dizzy ledge 
Around a precipice's edge. 
When lo ! a wasted female form. 
Blighted by wrath of sun and storm, 
In tattered weeds and wild array, 
Stood on a cliff beside the way, 
And glancing round her restless eye, 
Upon the wood, the rock, the sky, 
Seemed nought to mark, yet all to spy. 
Her brow was wreathed with gaudy broom 
With gesture wild she waved a plume 
Of feathers, which the eagles fling 
To crag and cliff from dusky wing ; 
Such spoils her desperate step had sought. 
Where scarce was footing for the goat. 
The tartan plaid she first descried. 
And shrieked till all the rocks replied ; 
As loud she laughed when near they drew. 
For then the Lowland garb she knew ; 
And then her hands she wildly wrung, 



THE PROPHECY. 181 

And then she wept, and then she sung — 
She sung- ! — the voice, in better time, 
Perchance to harp or lute might chime ; 
And now, though strained and roughened, still 
Rung wildly sweet to dale and hill. 



XXII. 
SONG. 

They bid me sleep, they bid me pray, 

They say my brain is warped and wrung 
I cannot sleep on Highland brae, 

I cannot pray in Highland tongue. 
But were I now where Allan glides. 
Or heard my native Devan's tides, 
So sweetly would I rest, and pray 
That Heaven w^ould close my wintry day ! 

'T was thus my hair they bade me braid, 
They made me to the church repair ; 

It was my bridal morn they said, 

And my true love would meet me there. 

But woe betide the cruel guile 

That drowned in blood the morning smile ! 

And woe betide the fairy dream ! 

I only waked to sob and scream. 



182 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XXIII. 

" Who is this maid ? what means her lay ? 

She hovers o'er the hollow way. 

And flutters wide her mantle gray, 

As the lone heron spreads his wing. 

By twilight, o'er a haunted spring." 

" 'T is Blanche of Devan," Murdoch said, 

"A crazed and captive Lowland maid, 

Ta'en on the morn she was a bride. 

When Eoderick forayed Devan-side. 

The gay bridegroom resistance made, 

And felt our Chiefs un conquered blade. 

I marvel she is now at large. 

But oft she 'scapes from Maudlin's charge. — 

Hence, brain-sick fool ! " — He raised his bow : — 

" Now, if thou strik'st her but one blow, 

I 'U pitch thee from the cliff as far 

As ever peasant pitched a bar ! " 

" Thanks, champion, thanks ! " the Maniac cried. 

And pressed her to Fitz-James's side. 

" See the gray pennons I prepare, 

To seek my true love through the air ! 

I will not lend that savage groom. 

To break his fall, one downy plume ! 

No ! — deep amid disjointed stones, 

The wolves shall batten on his bones, 

And then shall his detested plaid, 

By bush and brier in mid-air stayed. 



THE PROPHECY. 183 

Wave forth a banner fair and free, 
Meet signal for their revelry." 

XXIV. 

" Hush thee, poor maiden, and be still ! *' 
" Oh ! thou look'st kindly, and I will. 
Mine eye has dried and wasted been, 
But still it loves the Lincoln green ; 
And, though mine ear is all unstrung, 
Still, still it loves the Lowland tongue. 

" For oh my sweet William was forester true, 
He stole poor Blanche's heart away ! 

His coat it was all of the greenwood hue, 
And so blithely he trilled the Lowland lay ! 

" It was not that I meant to tell . . . 
But thou art wise and guessest well." 
Then, in a low and broken tone. 
And hurried note, the song went on. 
Still on the Clansman fearfully 
She fixed her apprehensive eye, 
Then, turned it on the Knight, and then 
Her look glanced wildly o'er the glen. 



XXV. 

" The toils are pitched and the stakes are set, 
Ever sing merrily, men-ily ; 



184 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The bows tliey bend, and the knives they whet, 
Hunters live so cheerily. 

" It was a stag, a stag of ten. 

Bearing its branches sturdily ; 
He came stately down the glen, — 

Ever sing hardily, hardily. 

" It was there he met with a wounded doe. 

She was bleeding deathfuUy ; 
She warned him of the toils below, 

Oh, so faithfully, faithfully ! 

" He had an eye, and he could heed, — 

Ever sing warily, warily ; 
He had a foot, and he could speed, — 

Hunters watch so narrowly." 



XXVI. 

Pitz-James's mind was passion-tossed, 
When Ellen's hints and fears were lost ; 
But Murdoch's shout suspicion wrought, 
And Blanche's song conviction brought. 
Not like a stag that spies the snare. 
But lion of the hunt aware. 
He waved at once his blade on high, 
"Disclose thy treachery, or die ! " 
Forth at full speed the Clansman flew, 



THE PROPHECY. 185 

But in his race his bow he drew. 

The shaft just grazed Pitz-James's crest, 

And thrilled in Blanche's faded breast. — 

Murdoch of Alpine ! prove thy speed, 

For ne'er had Alpine's son such need ; 

With heart of fire, and foot of wind, 

The fierce avenger is behind ! 

Fate judges of the rapid strife — 

The forfeit death — the prize is life ; 

Thy kindred ambush lies before. 

Close couched upon the heathery moor ; 

Them couldst thou reach! — it may not be — 

Thine ambushed kin thou ne'er shalt see. 

The fiery Saxon gains on thee ! — 

Resistless speeds the deadly thrust. 

As lightning strikes the pine to dust ; 

With foot and hand Fitz-James must strain 

Ere he can win his blade again. 

Bent o'er the fallen with falcon eye, 

He grimly smiled to see him die, 

Then slower wended back his way. 

Where the poor maiden bleeding lay. 



XXVII. 

She sat beneath the birchen tree. 
Her elbow resting on her knee ; 
She had withdrawn the fatal shaft. 
And gazed on it, and feebly laughed ; 



186 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Her wreath of broom and feathers gray, 

Daggled with blood, beside her lay. 

The Knight to stanch the life-stream tried, — 

" Stranger, it is in vain ! " she cried. 

" This hour of death has given me more 

Of reason's power than years before ; 

For, as these ebbing veins decay. 

My frenzied visions fade away. 

A helpless injured wretch I die, 

And something tells me in thine eye 

That thou wert mine avenger born. 

Seest thou this tress ? — Oh, still I Ve worn 

This little tress of yellow hair, 

Through danger, frenzy, and despair ! 

It once was bright and clear as thine, 

But blood and tears have dimmed its shine. 

I will not tell thee when 't was shred. 

Nor from wliat guiltless victim's head, — 

My brain would turn ! — but it shall wave 

Like plumage on thy helmet brave. 

Till sun and wind shall bleach the stain, 

And thou wilt bring it me again. 

I waver still. — God ! more bright 

Let reason beam her parting light ! — 

Oh, by thy knighthood's honored sign. 

And for thy life preserved by mine. 

When thou shalt see a darksome man. 

Who boasts him Chief of Alpine's Clan, 

With tartans broad and shadowy plume, 

And hand of blood, and brow of gloom, 



THE PROPHECY. 187 

Be thy heart bold, thy weapon strong, 
And wreak poor Blanche of Devan's wrong ! — 
They watch for thee by pass and fell . . . 
Avoid the path ... God ! . . . farewell." 



XXVIII. 

A kindly heart had brave Eitz-James ; 

Past poured his eye at pity's claims ; 

And now, with mingled grief and ire, 

He saw the murdered maid expire. 

" God, in my need, be my relief. 

As I wreak this on yonder Chief! " 

A lock from Blanche's tresses fair 

He blended with her bridegroom's hair ; 

The mingled braid in blood he dyed, 

And placed it on his bonnet-side : 

" By Him whose word is truth, I swear, 

No other favor will I wear, 

Till this sad token I imbrue 

In the best blood of Koderick Dhu ! — 

But hark ! what means yon faint halloo ? 

The chase is up, — but they shall know, 

The stag at bay 's a dangerous foe." 

Barred from the known but guarded way. 

Through copse and cliffs Fitz-James must stray. 

And oft must change his desperate track. 

By stream and precipice turned back. 

Heartless, fatigued, and faint, at length, 



188 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



From lack of food and loss of strength, 
He couched him in a thicket lioar, 
And thought his toils and perils o'er : - 
" Of all my rash adventures past, 
This frantic feat must prove the last ! 




Who e'er so mad but might have guessed 
That all this Highland hornet's nest 
Would muster up in swarms so soon 
As e'er they heard of bands at Doune ? — 
Like bloodhounds now they search me out, 
Hark, to the whistle and the shout ! — 
If farther through the wilds I go, 



THE PROPHECY. 189 

I only fall upon the foe : 

I '11 couch me here till evening gray, 

Then darkling try my dangerous way." 



XXIX. 

The shades of eve come slowly down, 

The woods are wrapt in deeper brown, 

The owl awakens from her dell. 

The fox is heard upon the fell ; 

Enough remains of glimmering light 

To guide the wanderer's steps aright, 

Yet not enough from far to show 

His figure to the watchful foe. 

With cautious step and ear awake, 

He climbs the crag and threads the brake ; 

And not the summer solstice there 

Tempered the midnight mountain air, 

But every breeze that swept the wold 

Benumbed his drenched limbs Avith cold. 

In dread, in danger, and alone, 

Pamished and chilled, through ways unknown, 

Tangled and steep, he journeyed on ; 

Till, as a rock's huge point he turned, 

A watch-hre close before him burned. 



XXX. 

Beside its embers red and clear. 
Basked in his plaid a mountaineer ; 



190 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And up he sprung with sword in hand, — 

" Thy name and purpose ! Saxon, stand ! " 

" A stranger.'' " What dost thou require ?" 

" Eest and a guide, and food and fire. 

My life 's beset, my path is lost, 

The gale has chilled my limbs with frost/* 

" Art thou a friend to Roderick? " " No." 

"Thou dar'st not call thyself a foe ? " 

" I dare ! to him and all the band 

He brings to aid his murderous hand." 

" Bold words ! — but, though the beast of game 

The privilege of chase may claim. 

Though space and law the stag we lend, 

Ere hound we slip or bow we bend, 

Who ever recked, where, how, or when, 

The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? 

Thus treacherous scouts, — yet sure they lie, 

Who say thou cam'st a secret spy ! " — 

"They do, by heaven! — come Eoderick Dhu, 

And of his clan the boldest two. 

And let me but till morning rest, 

I write the falsehood on their crest." 

" If by the blaze I mark aright, 

Thou bear'st the belt and spur of Knight." 

" Then by these tokens mayst thou know 

Each proud oppressor's mortal foe." 

" Enough, enough ; sit down and share 

A soldier's couch, a soldier's fare." 



THE PROPHECY, 191 



xxxr. 

He gave him of his Highland cheer, 

The hardened flesh of mountain deer ; 

Dry fuel on the fire he laid, 

And bade the Saxon share his plaid. 

He tended him like welcome guest. 

Then thus his further speech addressed : — 

" Stranger, I am to Roderick Dhu 

A clansman born, a kinsman true ; 

Each word against his honor spoke 

Demands of me avenging stroke ; 

Yet more, — upon thy fate, 't is said, 

A mighty augury is laid. 

It rests with me to wind my horn, — 

Thou art with numbers overborne ; 

It rests with me, here, brand to brand. 

Worn as thou art, to bid thee stand : 

But, not for clan, nor kindred's cause, 

Will I depart from honor's laws ; 

To assail a wearied man were shame. 

And stranger is a holy name ; 

Guidance and rest, and food and fire, 

In vain he never must require. 

Then rest thee here till dawn of day ; 

Myself will guide thee on the way, 

O'er stock and stone, through watch and ward, 

Till past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

As far as Coilantogle's ford ; 

From thence thy warrant is thy sword.*' 



192 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" I take thy courtesy, "by heaven, 
As freely as 't is nobly given ! " 
"Well, rest thee; for the bittern's cry 
Sings us the lake's wild lullaby." 
"With that he shook the gathered heath, 
And spread his plaid upon the wreath ; 
And the brave foemen, side by side. 
Lay peaceful down like brothers tried, 
And slept until the dawning beam 
Purpled the mountain and the stream. 



CANTO FIETH. 

THE COMBAT. 



THE COMBAT 




COILANTOGLE FORD 



CANTO FIFTH. 



THE COMBAT. 



Fair as the earliest beam of eastern light, 

When first, by the bewildered pilgrim spied. 
It smiles upon the dreary brow of night. 

And silvers o'er the torrent's foaming tide, 
And lights the fearful path on mountain-side, — 

Fair as that beam, although the fairest far, 
Giving to horror grace, to danger pride. 

Shine martial Faith, and Courtesy's bright star. 
Through all the wreckful storms that cloud the brow of 
War. 



II. 



That early beam, so fair and sheen. 
Was twinkling through the hazel screen, 
When, rousing at its glimmer red. 
The warriors left their lowly bed. 
Looked out upon the dappled sky, 
Muttered their soldier matins by. 
And then awaked their fire, to steal. 
As short and rude, their soldier meal. 



198 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

That 'er, the Gael around him threw 
His graceful plaid of varied hue, 
And, true to promise, led the way, 
By thicket green and mountain gray. 
A wildering path ! — they winded now 
Along the precipice's brow, 
Commanding the rich scenes beneath, 
The windings of the Eorth and Teith, 
And all the vales between that lie, 
Till Stirling's turrets melt in sky ; 
Then, sunk in copse, their farthest glance 
Gained not the length of horseman's lance. 
'T was oft so steep, the foot was fain 
Assistance from the hand to gain ; 
So tangled oft that, bursting through. 
Each hawthorn shed her showers of dew, - 
That diamond dew, so pure and clear. 
It rivals all but Beauty's tear ! 



III. 



At length they came where, stern and steep, 
The hill sinks down upon the deep. 
Here Vennachar in silver flows, 
There, ridge on ridge, Benledi rose ; 
Ever the hollow path twined on. 
Beneath steep bank and threatening stone ; 
A hundred men might hold the post 
With hardihood ao-ainst a host. 



THE COMBAT. 199 

The rugged mountain's scanty cloak 

Was dwarfish shrubs of birch and oak, 

With shingles bare, and cliffs between, 

And patches bright of bracken green, 

And heather black, that waved so high, 

It held the copse in rivalry. 

But wliere the lake slept deep and still, 

Dank osiers fringed the swamp and hill ; 

And oft both path and hill were torn, 

Where wintry torrent down had borne, 

And heaped upon the cumbered land 

Its wreck of gravel, rocks, and sand. 

So toilsome was the road to trace, 

The guide, abating of his pace. 

Led slowly through the pass's jaws, 

And asked Pitz-James by what strange cause 

He sought these wnlds, traversed by few. 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu. 



IV. 

"Brave Gael, ray pass, in danger tried, 
Hangs in my belt and by my side ; 
Yet, sooth to tell," the Saxon said, 
" I dreamt not now to claim its aid. 
When here, but three days since, I came, 
Bewnldered in pursuit of game, 
All seemed as peaceful and as still 
As the mist slumbering on yon hill ; 



200 TEE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Thy dangerous Chief was then afar, 
Nor soon expected back from war. 
Thus said, at least, my mountain-guide. 
Though deep perchance the villain lied." 
" Yet why a second venture try ? " 
" A warrior thou, and ask me why ! — 
Moves our free course by such fixed cause 
As gives the poor mechanic laws ? 
Enough, I sought to drive away 
The lazy hours of peaceful day ; 
Slight cause will then suffice to guide 
A Knight's free footsteps far and wide, — = 
A falcon flown, a grayhound strayed, 
The merry glance of mountain maid ; 
Or, if a path be dangerous known. 
The danger's self is lure alone." 



V. 

" Thy secret keep, I urge thee not ; — 
Yet, ere again ye sought this spot. 
Say, heard ye nought of Lowland war, 
Against Clan-Alpine, raised by Mar ? " 
'' No, by my word ; — of bands prepar(;d 
To guard King James's sports I heard ; 
Nor doubt I aught, but, when they hear 
This muster of the mountaineer, 
Their pennons will abroad be flung, 
Which else in Douiie had peaceful hung.' 



THE COMBAT. 201 

*' Free be they flung ! for we were loath 
Their silken folds should feast the inoth. 
Free be they flung ! — as free shall wave 
Clan-A.lpine's pine in banner brave. 
But, stranger, peaceful since you came, 
Bewildered in the mountain-game. 
Whence the bold boast by which you show 
Vich- Alpine's vowed and mortal foe ? " 
" Warrior, but y ester-morn I knew 
Nought of thy Chieftain, Eoderick Dhu, 
Save as an outlawed desperate man. 
The chief of a rebellious clan. 
Who, in the Kegent's court and sight, 
With ruffian dagger stabbed a knight ; 
Yet this alone might from his part 
Sever each true and loyal heart." 



VI. 



Wrathful at such arraignment foul. 
Dark lowered the clansman's sable scowl. 
A space he paused, then sternly said, 
" And heardst thou why he drew his blade? 
Heardst thou that shameful word and blow 
Brought Eoderick's vengeance on his foe ? 
What recked the Chieftain if he stood 
On Highland heath or Holy-Rood ? 
He rights such wrong where it is given. 
If it were in the court of heaven." 



202 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



" Still was it outrage ; — yet, 't is true, 
Not then claimed sovereignty his due; 
While Albany with feeble hand 




Held borrowed truncheon of command, 
The young King, mewed in Stirling toAver, 
Was stranger to respect and power. 



THE COMBAT. 203 

But then, thy Chieftain's robber life ! — 
Winning mean prey by causeless strife, 
Wrenching from ruined Lowland swain 
His herds and harvest reared in vain, — 
Methinks a soul like thine should scorn 
The spoils from such foul foray borne.'* 



vit 

The Gael beheld him grim the while, 
And answered with disdainful smile : 
" Saxon, from yonder mountain high, 
I marked thee send delighted eye 
Far to the south and east, where lay. 
Extended in succession gay, 
Deep waving fields and pastures green. 
With gentle slopes and groves between : — 
These fertile plains, that softened vale, 
Were once the birthright of the Gael ; 
The stranger came with iron hand. 
And from our fathers reft the land. 
Where dwell we now ? See, rudely swell 
Crag over crag, and fell o'er fell. 
Ask we this savage hill we tread 
For fattened steer or household bread, 
Ask we for flocks these shingles dry. 
And well the mountain might reply, — 
' To you, as to your sires of yore, 
Belong the target and claymore I 



204 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

I give you shelter in my breast, 
Your own good blades must win the rest.* 
Pent in this fortress of the North, 
Think'st thou we will not sally forth, 
To spoil the spoiler as we may, 
And from the robber rend the prey ? 
Ay, by my soul ! — While on yon plain 
The Saxon rears one shock of grain, 
While of ten thousand herds there strays 
But one along yon river's maze, — 
The Gael, of plain and river heir. 
Shall with strong hand redeem his share. 
Where live the mountain Chiefs who hold 
That plundering Lowland field and fold 
Is aught but retribution true ? 
Seek other cause 'o-ainst Eoderick Dhu." 



VIII. 

Answered Fitz-James : " And, if I sought, 

Think'st thou no other could be brought ? 

What deem ye of my path waylaid ? 

My life given o'er to ambuscade ? " 

" As of a meed to rashness due : 

Hadst thou sent warning fair and true, — 

I seek my hound or falcon strayed, 

I seek, good faith, a Highland maid, — 

Free hadst thou been to come and go ; 

But secret patli marks secret foe. 



THE COMBAT. 205 

Nor yet for this, even as a spy, 

Hadst thou, unheard, been doomed to die, 

Save to fulfil an augury." 

" Well, let it pass ; nor will I now 

Fresh cause of enmity avow, 

To chafe thy mood and cloud thy brow. 

Enough, I am by promise tied 

To match me with this man of pride : 

Twice have I sought Clan- Alpine's glen 

In peace ; but when I come again, 

I come with banner, brand, and bow. 

As leader seeks his mortal foe. 

Por love-lorn swain in lady's bower 

Ne'er panted for the appointed hour. 

As I, until before me stand 

This rebel Chieftain and his band ! '* 



IX. 



" Have then thy wish ! " — He Avhistled shrill, 

And he was answered from the hill ; 

Wild as the scream of the curlew. 

From crag to crag the signal flew. 

Instant, through copse and heath, arose 

Bonnets and spears and bended bows ; 

On right, on left, above, below. 

Sprung up at once the lurking foe ; 

From shingles gray their lances start, 

The bracken bush sends forth the dart. 



206 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The rushes and the willow-wand 

Are bristling into axe and brand. 

And every tuft of broom gives life 

To plaided warrior armed for strife. 

That whistle garrisoned the glen 

At once with full five hundred men, 

As if the yawning hill to heaven 

A subterranean host had given. 

Watching their leader's beck and will, 

All silent there they stood and still. 

Like the loose crags whose threatening mass 

Lay tottering o'er the hollow pass, 

As if an infant's touch could urge 

Their headlong passage down the verge, 

With step and weapon forward flung, 

Upon the mountain-side they hung. 

The Mountaineer cast glance of pride 

Along Benledi's living side, 

Then fixed his eye and sable brow 

Full on Fitz-James : " How say'st thou now ? 

These are Clan- Alpine's wamors true ; 

And, Saxon, — I am Roderick Dhu ! " 



X. 



Fitz- James was brave : — though to his heart 
The life-blood thrilled with sudden start. 
He manned himself with dauntless air, 
Returned the Chief his haughty stare. 



THE COMBAT. 207 

His back against a rock lie bore, 

And firmly placed his foot before : — 

" Come one, come all ! this rock shall fly 

From its firm base as soon as I.*' 

Sir Eoderick marked, — and in his eyes 

Eespect was mingled with surprise, 

And the stern joy which warriors feel 

In foeman worthy of their steel. 

Short space he stood — then waved his hand : 

Down sunk the disappearing band ; 

Each warrior vanished where he stood, 

In broom or bracken, heath or wood ; 

Sunk brand and spear and bended bow, 

In osiers pale and copses low ; 

It seemed as if their mother Earth 

Had swallowed up her warlike birth. 

The wind's last breath had tossed in air 

Pennon and plaid and plumage fair, — 

The next but swept a lone hill-side, 

Where heath and fern were waving wide : 

The sun's last glance was glinted back 

From spear and glaive, from targe and jack, — 

The next, all unreflected, shone 

On bracken green and cold gray stone. 



XI. 

Fitz- James looked round, —yet scarce believed 
The witness that his sight received ; 



208 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Such apparition well raiglit seem 

Delusion of a dreadful dream. 

Sir Roderick in suspense he eyed. 

And to his look the Chief replied : 

" Fear nought — nay, that I need not say — 

But — doubt not aught from mine array. 

Thou art my guest ; — I pledged my word 

As far as Coilantogie ford : 

Nor would I call a clansman's brand 

For aid against one valiant hand. 

Though on our strife lay every vale 

Kent by the Saxon from the Gael. 

So move we on ; — I only meant 

To show the reed on which you leant. 

Deeming this path you might pursue 

Without a pass from Roderick Dhu/' 

They moved ; — I said Fitz-Jaraes was brave 

As ever knight that belted glaive, 

Yet dare not say that now his blood 

Kept on its wont and tempered flood. 

As, following Roderick's stride, he drew 

That seeming lonesome pathway through, 

Which yet by fearful proof was rife 

With lances, that, to take his life, 

Waited but signal from a guide. 

So late dishonored and defied. 

Ever, by stealth, his eye souglit round 

The vanished guardians of the ground. 

And still from copse and heather deep 

Fancy saw spear and broadsword peep, 



THE COMBAT. 209 

And in the plover's shrilly strain 
The signal whistle heard again. 
Nor breathed he free till far behind 
The pass was left ; for then they wind 
Along a wide and level green, 
Where neither tree nor tuft was seen, 
Nor rush nor bush of broom was near, 
To hide a bonnet or a spear. 



XII. 

The Chief in silence strode before, 

And reached that torrent's sounding shore. 

Which, daughter of three mighty lakes. 

From Vennachar in silver breaks, 

Sweeps through the plain, and ceaseless mines 

On Bochastle the mouldering lines, 

Where Eome, the Empress of the world, 

Of yore her eagle wings unfurled. 

And here his course the Chieftain stayed. 

Threw down his target and his plaid. 

And to the Lowland warrior said : 

"Bold Saxon ! to his promise just, 

Vich- Alpine has discharged his trust. 

This murderous Chief, this ruthless man, 

This head of a rebellious clan. 

Hath led thee safe, through watch and ward. 

Far past Clan-Alpine's outmost guard. 

Now, man to man, and steel to steel, 



210 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 





A Chieftain's vengeance tlioii slialt feel. 
See, here all vantageless I stand, 
Armed like thyself with single brand ; 
For this is Coilantogle ford. 
And thou must keep thee with thy sword.' 



XIIT. 



The Saxon paused : " I ne'er delayed, 
When foeman bade me draw my blade ; 



THE COMBAT. 211 

Nay more, brave Chief, I vowed thy death ; 

Yet sure thy fair and generous faith, 

And my deep debt for life preserved, 

A better meed have well deserved : 

Can nought but blood oar feud atone ? 

Are there no means ? " — " No, stranger, none ! 

And hear, — to fire thy flagging zeal, — 

The Saxon cause rests on thy steel ; 

For thus spoke Fate by prophet bred 

Between the living and the dead : 

* Who spills the foremost foeman's life, 

His party conquers in the strife.' " 

" Then, by my word," the Saxon said, 

" The riddle is already read. 

Seek yonder brake beneath the cliff, — 

There lies Eed Murdoch, stark and stiff. 

Thus Eate hath solved her prophecy ; 

Then yield to Fate, and not to me. 

To James at Stirling let us go, 

When, if thou wilt be still his foe, 

Or if the King shall not agree 

To grant thee grace and favor free, 

I plight mine honor, oath, and word 

That, to thy native strengths restored. 

With each advantage shalt thou stand 

That aids thee now to guard thy land/' 



2ia THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XIV. 

Dark liglitning flaslied from Eoderick's eye : 
" Soars thy presumption, then, so high, 
Because a wretched kern ye slew, 
Homage to name to Roderick Dhu ? 
He yields not, he, to man nor Fate ! 
Thou add'st but fuel to my hate ; — 
My clansman's blood demands revenge. 
Not yet prepared? — By heaven, I change 
My thought, and hold thy valor light 
As that of some vain carpet knight, 
Who ill deserved my courteous care. 
And whose best boast is but to wear 
A braid of his fair lady's hair." 
" I thank thee, Roderick, for the word ! 
It nerves my heart, it steels my sword ; 
For I have sworn this braid to stain 
In the best blood that warms thy vein. 
Now, truce, farewell ! and, ruth, begone ! — 
Yet think not that by thee alone, 
Proud Chief ! can courtesy be shown ; 
Though not from copse, or heath, or cairn, 
Start at my whistle clansmen stern, 
Of this small horn one feeble blast 
Would fearful odds against thee cast. 
But fear not — doubt not — which thou wilt 
We try this quarrel hilt to hilt." 
Then each at once his falchion drew. 
Each on the ground his scabbard thrcAV, 



THE COMBAT. 213 

Each loolced to sun and stream and plain 
As what they ne'er might see again ; 
Then foot and point and eye opposed, 
In dubious strife they darkly closed. 



XV. 



Ill fared it then with Roderick Dhu, 
That on the field his targe he threw, 
Whose brazen studs and tough bull-hide 
Had death so often dashed aside ; 
For, trained abroad his arras to wield, 
Fitz-James's blade was sword and shield. 
He practised every pass and ward, 
To thrust, to strike, to feint, to guard ; 
While less expert, though stronger far, 
The Gael maintained unequal war. 
Three times in closing strife they stood, 
And thrice the Saxon blade drank blood ; 
No stinted draught, no scanty tide, 
The gushing flood the tartans dyed. 
Fierce Roderick felt tlie fatal drain, 
And showered his blows like wintry rain j 
And, as firm rock or castle-roof 
Against the winter shower is proof. 
The foe, invulnerable still. 
Foiled his wild rage by steady skill ; 
Till, at advantage ta'en, his brand 
Forced Roderick's weapon from his hand, 



214 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And backward borne upon the lea, 
Brought the proud Chieftain to his knee, 



XVI. 



" Now yield thee, or b}^ Him who made 

The world, thy heart's blood dyes my blade! " 

" Thy threats, thy mercy, I defy ! 

Let recreant yield, who fears to die." 

Like adder darting from his coil. 

Like wolf that dashes through the toil. 

Like mountain-cat who guards her young, 

Full at Fitz- James's throat he sprung ; 

Received, but recked not of a wound. 

And locked his arms his foeman round. — 

Now, gallant Saxon, hold thine own ! 

No maiden's hand is round thee thrown ! 

That desperate grasp thy frame might feel 

Through bars of brass and triple steel ! 

They tug, they strain ! down, down they go, 

The Gael above, Fitz-James below. 

The Chieftain's gripe his throat compressed, 

His knee was planted on his breast ; 

His clotted locks he backward threw. 

Across his brow his hand he drew, 

From blood and mist to clear his sight, 

Then gleamed aloft his dagger bright ! 

But hate and fury ill supplied 

The stream of life's exhausted tide. 



THE COMBAT. 215 

And all too late the advantage came, 
To turn the odds of deadly game ; 
For, while the dagger gleamed on high, 
Eeeled soul and sense, reeled brain and eye. 
Down came the blow ! but in the heath 
The erring blade found bloodless sheath. 
The struggling foe may now unclasp 
The fainting Chief's relaxing grasp ; 
Un wounded from the dreadful close, 
But breathless all, Fitz-James arose. 



XVIT. 

He faltered thanks to Heaven for life, 

Redeemed, unhoped, from desperate strife ; 

Next on his foe his look he cast. 

Whose every gasp appeared his last ; 

In Roderick's gore he dipped the braid, — 

" Poor Blanche! thy wrongs are dearly paid 

Yet with thy foe must die, or live, 

The praise that faith and valor give." 

With that he blew a bugle note, 

Undid the collar from his throat, 

Unbonneted, and by the wave 

Sat down his brow and hands to lave. 

Then faint afar are heard the feet 

Of rushing steeds in gallop fleet ; 

The sounds increase, and now are seen 

Four mounted squires in Lincoln green ; 



216 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Two who bear lance, and two who lead 
By loosened rein a saddled steed ; 
Each onward held his headlong course, 
And by Fitz- James reined up his horse, 




With wonder viewed the bloody spot, — 
" Exclaim not, gallants ! question not, ~ 
You, Herbert and LufFness, alight, 
And bind the wounds of vonder knisrht ; 



THE COMBAT. 217 



Let the gray palfrey bear his weight. 
We destined for a fairer freight, 
And bring him on to Stirling straight ; 
I will before at better speed, 
To seek fresh horse and fitting weed. 
The sun rides high ; — ■ I must be boune 
To see the archer-game at noon ; 
But lightly Bayard clears the lea. — 
De Vaux and Herries, follow me. 



XVIII. 

*' Stand, Bayard, stand ! " — the steed obeyed. 

With arching neck and bended head, 

And glancing eye and quivering ear, 

As if he loved his lord to hear. 

No foot Pitz-James in stirrup stayed. 

No grasp upon the saddle laid, 

But wreathed his left hand in the mane, 

And lightly bounded from the plain, 

Turned on the horse his armed heel. 

And stirred his courage with the steel. 

Bounded the fiery steed in air. 

The rider sat erect and fair, 

Then like a bolt from steel crossbow 

Forth launched, along the plain they go. 

They dashed that rapid torrent through, 

And up Carhonie's hill they flew ; 

Still at the gallop pricked the Knight, 



218 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

His merrymen followed as they might. 
Along thy banks, swift Teith ! they ride, 
And in the race they mock thy tide ; 
Torry and Lendrick now are past, 
And Deanstown lies behind them cast ; 
They rise, the bannered towers of Doune, 
They sink in distant woodland soon ; 
Blair-Drummond sees the hoofs strike fire, 
They sweep like breeze through Ochtertyre ; 
They mark just glance and disappear 
The lofty brow of ancient Kier ; 
They bathe their coursers' sweltering sides, 
Dark Forth ! amid thy sluggish tides, 
And on the opposing shore take ground. 
With plash, with scramble, and with bound. 
Eight-hand they leave thy cliffs, Craig-T^orth ! 
And soon the bulwark of the North, 
Gray Stirling, with her towers and town. 
Upon their fleet career looked down. 



XIX. 

As up the flinty path they strained, 

Sudden his steed the leader reined ; 

A signal to his squire he flung. 

Who instant to his stirrup sprung : — 

" Seest thou, De Vaux, yon woodsman gray. 

Who towuward holds the rocky way, 

Of stature tall and poor array ? 



THE COMBAT. ^19 

Mai-k'st thou the firm, yet active stride, 

With which he scales the mountain-side ? 

Know'st thou from whence he comes, or whom ? " 

" No, by my word ; — a burly groom 

He seems, who in the field or chase 

A. baron's train would nobly grace — "' 

" Out, out, De Vaux ! can fear supply, 

And jealousy, no sharper eye ? 

Afar, ere to the hill he drew. 

That stately form and step I knew ; 

Like form in Scotland is not seen, 

Treads not such step on Scottish green. 

'T is James of Douglas, by Saint Serle ! 

The uncle of the banished Earl. 

Away, away, to court, to show 

The near approach of dreaded foe : 

The King must stand upon his guard ; 

Douglas and he must meet prepared." 

Then right-hand wheeled their steeds, and straight 

They won the castle's postern gate. 



XX, 

The Douglas, who had bent his way 
From Cambus-kenneth's abbey gTay, 
Now, as he climbed the rocky shelf, 
Held sad communion with himself: — 
" Yes ! all is true my tears could frame ; 
A prisoner lies the noble Greeme, 



220 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And fiery Roderick soon will feel 
The vengeance of the royal steel. 
I, only I, can ward their fate, — 
God grant the ransom come not late ! 
The Abbess hath her promise given, 
My child shall be the bride of Heaven ; - 
Be pardoned one repining tear! 
For He who gave her knows how dear, 
How excellent ! — but that is by, 
And now my business is — to die. — 
Ye towers ! within whose circuit dread 
A Douglas by his sovereign bled ; 
And thou, O sad and fatal mound ! 
That oft hast heard the death-axe sound, 
As on the noblest of the land 
Fell the stern headsman's bloody hand, — 
The dungeon, block, and nameless tomb 
Prepare^ — for Douglas seeks his doom! 
But hark ! what blithe and jolly peal 
Makes the Franciscan steeple reel ? 
And see ! upon the crowded street, 
In motley groups what masquers meet ! 
Banner and pageant, pipe and drum. 
And merry morrice-daneers come. 
I guess, by all this quaint array, 
The burghers hold their sports to-day. 
James will be there ; he loves such show. 
Where the good yeoman bends his bow, 
And the tough wrestler foils his foe. 
As well as where, in proud career. 



THE COMBAT. 221 

The high-born tilter shivers spear. 

I '11 follow to the Castle-park, 

And play my prize ; — King James shall mark 

If age has tamed these sinews stark, 

Whose force so oft in happier days 

His boyish wonder loved to praise." 



XXI. 



The Castle gates were open flung, 

The quivering drawbridge rocked and rung, 

And echoed loud the flinty street 

Beneath the coursers' clattering feet, 

As slowly down the steep descent 

Fair Scotland's King and nobles went, 

While all along the crowded way 

Was jubilee and loud huzza. 

And ever James was bending low 

To his Avhite jennet's saddle-bow, 

Doffing his cap to city dame, 

Who smiled and blushed for pride and shame. 

And well the simperer might be vain, — 

He chose the fairest of the train. 

Gravely he greets each city sire, 

Commends each pageant's quaint attir-^, 

Gives to the dancers thanks aloud, 

And smiles and nods upon the crowd, 

Who rend the heavens with their acclaims, — 

" Lons: live the Commons' Kino-, Kins: James ! 



222 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Behind the King thronged peer and knight. 
And noble dame and damsel bright, 
Whose fiery steeds ill brooked the stay 
Of the steep street and crowded way. 
But in the train you might discern 
Dark lowering brow and visage stern ; 
There nobles mourned their pride restrained. 
And the mean burgher's joys disdained ; 
And chiefs, who, hostage for their clan, 
Were each from home a banished man, 
There thought upon their own gray tower, 
Their waving woods, their feudal power, 
And deemed themselves a shameful part 
Of pageant which they cursed in heart. 



XXII. 

Now, in the Castle-park, drew out 
Their checkered bands the joyous rout. 
There morricers, with bell at heel 
And blade in hand, their mazes wheel ; 
But chief, beside the butts, there stand 
Bold Eobin Hood and all his band, — 
Friar Tuck with quarterstaff and cowl, 
Old Scathelocke with his surly scowl, 
Maid Marian, fair as ivory bone, 
Scarlet, and Mutch, and Little John ; 
Their bugles challenge all that Avill, 
In archery to prove their skill. 



THE COMBAT. 223 

The Douglas bent a bow of miglit, — 
His first shaft centred in the white, 
And when in turn he shot again, 
His second split the first in twain. 
Prom the King's hand must Douglas take 
A silver dart, the archers' stake ; 
Fondly he watched, with watery eye. 
Some answering glance of sympathy, — 
No kind emotion made reply ! 
Indifferent as to archer wight. 
The monarch gave the arrow bright. 



XXIII. 

Now, clear the ring ! for, hand to hand, 
The manly wrestlers take their stand. 
Two o'er the rest superior rose. 
And proud demanded mightier foes, — 
Nor called in vain, for Douglas came. — 
For life is Hugh of Larbert lame ; 
Scarce better John of Alloa's fare. 
Whom senseless home his comrades bare. 
Prize of the wrestling match, the King 
To Douglas gave a golden ring. 
While coldly glanced his eye of blue. 
As frozen drop of wintry dew. 
Douglas would speak, but in his breast 
His struggling soul his words suppressed 
Indignant then he turned him where 



224 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



Their arms the brawny yeomen bare. 
To hurl the massive bar in air. 
When each his utmost strength had shown, 
The Douglas rent an earth-fast stone 




From its deep bed, then heaved it high. 
And sent the fragment through the sky 
A rood beyond the farthest mark ; 
And still in Stirling's royal park, 



THE COMBAT. 225 

The gray-haired sires, who know the past, 
To strangers point the Douglas cast. 
And moralize on the decay 
Of Scottish strength in modern day. 



XXIV. 

The vale with loud applauses rang, 
The Ladies' Eock sent back the clang. 
The King, with look unmoved, bestowed 
A purse well filled with pieces broad . 
Indignant smiled the Douglas proud. 
And threw the gold among the crowd. 
Who now with anxious wonder scan, 
And sharper glance, the dark gray man ; 
Till whispers rose among the throng, 
That heart so free, and hand so strong. 
Must to the Douglas blood belong. 
The old men marked and shook the head, 
To see his hair Avith silver spread, 
And winked aside, and told each son 
Of feats upon the English done. 
Ere Douglas of the stalwart hand 
Was exiled from his native land. 
The women praised his stately form. 
Though wrecked by many a winter's storm : 
The youth with awe and wonder saw 
His strength surpassing Nature's law. 
Thus judged, as is their wont, the crowd. 



226 THE LADF OF THE LAKE. 

Till murmurs rose to clamors loud. 
But not a glance from that proud ring 
Of peers who circled round the King 
With Douglas held communion kind, 
Or called the banished man to mind ; 
No, not from those who at the chase 
Once held his side the honored place, 
Begirt his board, and in the field 
Found safety underneath his shield ; 
Eor he whom royal eyes disown. 
When was his form to courtiers known ! 



XXV. 

The Monarch saw the gambols flag, 

And bade let loose a gallant stag. 

Whose pride, the holiday to crown, 

Two favorite greyhounds should pull dowDj 

That venison free and Bourdeaux wine 

Might serve the archery to dine. 

But Lufra, — whom from Douglas' side 

Nor bribe nor threat could e'er divide, 

The fleetest hound in all the North, — 

Brave Lufra saw, and darted forth. 

She left the royal hounds midway. 

And dashing on the antlered prey, 

Sunk her sharp muzzle in his flank. 

And deep the flowing life-blood drank. 

The King's stout huntsman saw the sport 



THE COMBAT, 227 

By strange intruder broken short, 

Came up, and with his leash unbound 

In anger struck the noble hound. 

The Douglas liad endured, that morn, 

The King's cold look, the nobles' scorn, 

And last, and worst to spirit proud, 

Had borne tlie pity of the crowd ; 

But Lufra had been fondly bred. 

To share his board, to watch his bed, 

And oft would Ellen Lufra's neck 

In maiden glee with garlands deck ; 

They were such playmates that with name 

Of Lufra Ellen's image came. 

His stifled wrath is brimming high. 

In darkened brow and flashing eye ; 

As waves before the bark divide, 

The crowd gave way before his stride ; 

Needs but a buffet and no more, 

The groom lies senseless in his gore. 

Such blow no other hand could deal, 

Though gauntleted in glove of steel. 



XXVI. 

Then clamored loud the royal train. 
And brandished swords and staves amain. 
But stern the Baron's warning : " Back ! 
Back, on your lives, ye menial pack ! 
Beware the Douglas. — Yes ! behold, 



238 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

King- James ! The Douglas, doomed of old, 

And vainly sought for near and far, 

A victim to atone the war, 

A willing victim, now attends, 

Nor craves thy grace but for his friends. — " 

" Thus is my clemency repaid ? 

Presumptuous Lord ! " the Monarch said : 

" Of thy misproud ambitious clan. 

Thou, James of Bothwell, wert the man, 

The only man, in whom a foe 

My woman-mercy would not know ; 

But shall a Monarch's presence brook 

Injurious blow and haughty look? — 

What ho ! the Captain of our Guard ! 

Give the offender fitting ward. — 

Break off the sports ! " — for tumult rose, 

And yeomen 'gan to bend their bows, — 

" Break off the sports ! " he said and frowned, 

'* And bid our horsemen clear the ground." 



xxvii. 

Then uproar wild and misarray 
Marred the fair form of festal day. 
The horsemen pricked among the crowd, 
Repelled by threats and insult loud ; 
To earth are borne the old and weak, 
The timorous fly, the women shriek ; 
With flint, with shaft, with staff, with bar, 



THE COMBAT. 229 

The hardier urge tumultuous war. 
At once round Douglas darkly sweep 
The royal spears in circle deep, 
And slowly scale the pathway steep, 
Wliile on the rear in thunder pour 
Tlie rabble with disordered roar. 
AYith grief the noble Douglas saw 
The Commons rise against the law, 
And to the leading soldier said : 
" Sir John of Hyndford, 't was my blade 
That knighthood on thy shoulder laid; 
Por that good deed permit me then 
A word with these misguided men. — 



XXVIII. 

" Hear, gentle friends, ere yet for me 
Ye break the bands of fealty. 
My life, my honor, and my cause, 
I tender free to Scotland's laws. 
Are these so weak as must require 
The aid of your misguided ire ? 
Or if I suffer causeless wrong. 
Is then my selfish rage so strong, 
My sense of public weal so lew, 
That, for mean vengeance on a foe. 
Those cords of love I should unbind 
Which knit my country and my kind ? 
Oh no ! Believe, in yonder tower 



230 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

It will not soothe my captive hour, 

To know, those spears our foes should dread 

For me in kindred gore are red : 

To know, in fruitless brawl begun, 

For me that mother wails her son. 

For me that widow's mate expires, 

For me that orphans Aveep their sires, 

That patriots mourn insulted laws. 

And curse the Douglas for the cause. 

Oh let your patience ward such ill, 

And keep your right to love me still ! '* 



XXIX. 

The crowd's wild fury sunk again 
In tears, as tempests melt in rain. 
With lifted hands and eyes, they prayed 
For blessings on his generous head 
Who for his country felt alone. 
And prized her blood beyond his own. 
Old men upon the verge of life 
Blessed him who stayed the civil strife ; 
And mothers held their babes on high, 
The self-devoted Chief to spy. 
Triumphant over wrongs and ire, 
To whom the prattlers owed a sire. 
Even the rough soldier's heart was moved 
As if behind some bier beloved. 
With trailing arms and drooping head, 



THE COMBAT. 231 

The Douglas up the hill he led, 
And at the Castle's battled verge, 
With sighs resigned his honored charge. 



XXX. 

The offended Monarch rode apart, 
With bitter thouglit and swelling heart, 
And would not now vouchsafe again 
Through Stirling streets to lead his train. 
" Lennox, who would wish to rule 
This changeling crowd, this common fool ? 
Hear'st thou," he said, " the loud acclaim 
With which they shout the Douglas name ? 
With like acclaim the vulgar throat 
Strained for King James their morning note ; 
With like acclaim they hailed the day 
When first I broke the Douglas sway; 
And like acclaim would Douglas greet 
If he could hurl me from my scat. 
Who o'er the herd would wish to reign. 
Fantastic, fickle, fierce, and vain ? 
Vain as the leaf upon the stream, 
And fickle as a changeful dream ; 
Fantastic as a woman's mood, 
And fierce as Frenzy's fevered blood. 
Thou many-headed monster-thing, 
Oh who would wish to be thy king ? — 



23a THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 



XXXI. 

" But soft ! wliat messenger of speed 

Spurs liitlierward his panting steed ? 

I guess his cognizance afar — 

What from our cousin, John of Mar? " 

" He prays, my liege, your sports keep bound 

Witliin the safe and guarded ground ; 

For some foul purpose yet unknown, — 

Most sure for evil to the throne, — 

The outlawed Chieftain, Eoderick Dim, 

Has summoned his rebellious crew ; 

'T is said, in James of Botlnvell's aid 

These loose banditti stand arrayed. 

The Earl of Mar this morn from Doune 

To break their muster marched, and soon 

Your Grace will hear of battle fought ; 

But earnestly the Earl besought, 

Till for such danger he provide, 

With scanty train you will not ride." 



XXXII. 

"Thou warn'st mc I have done amiss, 
I should have earlier looked to this ; 
I lost it in this bustling day. — 
Retrace with speed thy former way ; 
Spare not for spoiling of thy steed, 
Tlie best of mine shall bo tliy meed. 



THE COMBAT. 233 

Say to our faithful Lord of Mar, 
We do forbid the intended war ; 
Roderick this morn in single fight 
Was made our prisoner by a knight, 
And Douglas hath himself and cause 
Submitted to our kingdom's laws. 
The tidings of their leaders lost 
Will soon dissolve the mountain host, 
Nor would we that the vulgar feel, 
For their Chief's crimes, avenging steel. 
Bear Mar our message, Braco, fly ! " 
He turned his steed, — " My liege, I hie, 
Yet ere I cross this lily lawn 
I fear the broadswords will be drawn." 
The turf the flying courser spurned, 
And to his towers the King returned. 



XXXTII. 

Ill with King James's mood that day 
Suited gay feast and minstrel lay ; 
Soon were dismissed the courtly throng, 
And soon cut short the festal song. 
Nor less upon the saddened town 
The evening sunk in sorrow down. 
The burghers spoke of civil jar. 
Of rumored feuds and mountain war. 
Of Moray, Mar, and Roderick Dhu, 
All up in arms ; — the Douglas too, 



234 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

They moiinied him pent within the hohl, 
" Where stout Earl William was of old." ■ 
And there his word the speaker stayed, 
And finger on his lip he laid, 
Or pointed to his dagger blade. 
But jaded horsemen from the west 
At evening to the Castle pressed, 
And busy talkers said they bore 
Tidings of fight on Katrine's shore ; 
At noon the deadly fray begun, 
And lasted till the set of sun. 
Thus giddy rumor shook the town. 
Till closed the Night her pennons brown. 



CANTO SIXTH. 
THE GUAED-EOOM. 



The Guard Room 




THE DUNGEON GATE 



CANTO SIXTH. 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 



The sun, awakening, through the smoky air 

Of the dark city casts a sullen glance, 
Rousing each caitiff to his task of care, 

Of sinful man the sad inheritance ; 
Summoning revellers from the lagging dance, 

Scaring the prowling robber to his den ; 
Gilding on battled tower the warder's lance. 

And warning student pale to leave his pen, 
And yield his drowsy eyes to the kind nurse of men. 

What various scenes, and oh, what scones of woe, 

Are witnessed by that red and struggling beam ! 
Tlie fevered patient, from his pallet low. 

Through crowded hospital beholds it stream ; 
The ruined, maiden trembles at its gleam. 

The debtor wakes to thought of gyve and jail. 
The love-lorn wretch starts from tormenting dream ; 

The wakeful mother, by the glimmering pale, 
Trims her sick infant's couch, and soothes his feeble 
wail. 



240 TEE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

II. 

At dawn the towers of Stirling rang 

With soldier-step and weapon-clang, 

While drums with rolling note foretell 

Belief to weary sentinel. 

Through narrow loop and casement barr d, 

The sunbeams sought the Court of Guard, 

And, struggling with the smoky air, 

Deadened the torches' yellow glare. 

In comfortless alliance shone 

The lights through arch of blackened stone. 

And showed wild shapes in garb of war, 

Faces deformed with beard and scar, 

All haggard from the midnight watch. 

And fevered with the stern debauch; 

For the oak table's massive board, 

FJooded with wine, with fragments stored, 

And beakers drained, and cups o'erthrown, 

Showed in what sport the night had flown. 

Some, weary, snored on floor and bench ; 

Some labored still their thirst to quench ; 

Some, chilled with watching, spread their hands 

O'er the huge chimney's dying brands, 

While round them, or beside them flung. 

At every step their harness rung. 

III. 

These drew not for their fields the sword, 
Like tenants of a feudal lord. 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 241 

Nor owned the patriarchal claim 

Of Chieftain in their leader's name ; 

Adventurers they, from far who roved, 

To live by battle which tliey loved. 

There the Italian's clouded face, 

The swarthy Spaniard's there you trace ; 

The mountain-loving Switzer there 

More freely breathed in mountain-air; 

The Pleraing there despised the soil 

That paid so ill the laborer's toil ; 

Their rolls showed French and German name ; 

And merry England's exiles came, 

To share, with ill-concealed disdain. 

Of Scotland's pay the scanty gain. 

All brave in arms, well trained to wield 

The heavy halberd, brand, and shield; 

In camps licentious, wild, and bold ; 

In pillage fierce and uncontrolled; 

And now, by holytide and feast, 

From rules of discipline released. 



IV. 



They held debate of bloody fray, 
Fought 'twixt Loch Katrine and Achray. 
Fierce was their speech, and mid their words 
Their hands oft grappled to their swords ; 
Nor sunk their tone to spare the ear 
Of wounded comrades groaning near, 



242 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Whose mangled limbs and bodies gored 

Bore token of the mountain sword, 

Though, neighboring to the Court of Guard, 

Their prayers and feverish wails were heard. 

Sad burden to the ruffian joke, 

And savage oath by fury spoke ! — 

At length up started John of Brent, 

A yeoman from the banks of Trent ; 

A stranger to respect or fear, 

m peace a chaser of the deer. 

In host a hardy mutineer. 

But still the boldest of the crew 

When deed of danger was to do. 

He grieved that day their games cut short. 

And marred the dicer's brawling spoi't, 

And shouted loud, " Kenew the bowl ! 

And, while a merry catch I troll. 

Let each the buxom chorus bear, 

Like brethren of the brand and spear." 



V. 

soldier's song. 

Our vicar still preaches that Peter and Poule 

Laid a swinging long curse on the bonny brown bowl, 

That there 's wrath and despair in the jolly black-jacks 

And the seven deadly sins in a flagon of sack ; 

Yet whoop, Barnaby ! off witli thy liquor, 

Drink upsees out, and a fig for the vicar ! 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 243 

Our vicar he calls it damnation to sip 

The ripe ruddy dew of a woman's dear lip. 

Says that Beelzebub lurks in her kerchief so sly, 

And Apollyon shoots darts from her merry black eye ; 

Yet whoop, Jack! kiss Gillian the quicker, 

Till she bloom like a rose, and a fig for the vicar ! 

Our vicar thus preaches, — and why should he not ? 
For the dues of his cure are the placket and pot ; 
And 't is right of his office poor laymen to lurch 
Who infringe the domains of our good Mother Church 
Yet whoop, bully-boys ! off with your liquor. 
Sweet Marjorie 's the word, and a fig for the vicar ! 



VI. 

The warder's challenge, heard without, 

Stayed in mid-roar the merry shout. 

A soldier to the portal went, — 

" Here is old Bertram, sirs, of Ghent ; 

And — beat for jubilee the drum ! — 

A maid and minstrel with him come." 

Bertram, a Fleming, gray and scarred, 

Was entering now the Court of Guard, 

A harper with him, and, in plaid 

All muffled close, a mountain maid, 

Who backward shrunk to 'scape the view 

Of the loose scene and boisterous crew. 

" What news ? " they roared : — "I only know, 



244 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

From noon till eve we fought with foe, 

As wild and as untamable 

As the rude mountains where they dwell ; 

On both sides store of blood is lost, 

Nor much success can either boast." — 

" But whence thy captives, friend ? such spoil 

As theirs must needs reward thy toil. 

Old dost thou wax, and wars grow sharp ; 

Thou now hast glee-maiden and harp ! 

Get thee an ape, and trudge the land, 

The leader of a juggler band." 



VII. 

•' No, comrade ; — no such fortune mine. 

After the fight these sought our line, 

That aged harper and the girl. 

And, having audience of the Earl, 

Mar bade I should purvey them steed, 

And bring them hitherward with speed. 

Forbear your mirth and rude alarm, 

For none shall do them shame or harm. — ' 

" Hear ye his boast ? " cried John of Brent, 

Ever to strife and jangling bent ; 

" Shall he strike doe beside our lodge. 

And yet the jealous niggard grudge 

To pay the forester his fee ? 

I '11 have my share howe'er it be. 

Despite of Moray, Mar, or thee." 



*&^j 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 



245 




Bertram his forward step withstood 
And, burning in his vengeful mood, 
Old Allan, though unfit for strife, 
Laid hand upon his dagger-knife ? 



246 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

But Ellen boldly stepped between, 
And dropped at once the tartan screen : 
So, from his morning cloud, appears 
The sun of Ma}^ through summer tears. 
The savage soldiery, amazed, 
As on descended angel gazed ; 
Even hardy Brent, abashed and tamed, 
Stood half admiring, half ashamed. 



VIII. 

Boldly she spoke : " Soldiers, attend ! 

My father was the soldier's friend, 

Cheered him in camps, in marches led, 

And with him in the battle bled. 

Not from the valiant or the strong 

Should exile's daughter suffer wrong." 

Answered De Brent, most forward still 

In every feat or good or ill : 

" I shame me of the part I played ; 

And thou an outlaw's child, poor maid ! 

An outlaw I by forest laws. 

And merry Needwood knows the cause. 

Poor Kose, — if Rose be living now," — 

He wiped his iron eye and brow, — 

" Must bear such age, I think, as thou. — 

Hear ye, my mates ! I go to call 

The Captain of our watch to hall : 

There lies my halberd on the floor ; 



THE GUARD-ROOM. ^47 

And he that steps my halberd o'er, 
To do the maid injurious part, 
My shaft shall quiver in his heart ! 
Beware loose speech, or jesting rough ; 
Ye all know John de Brent. Enouglu" 



IX. 

Their Captain came, a gallant young, — 

Of Tullibardine's house he sprung, — 

Nor wore he yet the spurs of knight ; 

Gay was his mien, his humor light, 

And, though by courtesy controlled, 

Forward his speech, his bearing bold. 

The high-born maiden ill could brook 

The scanning of his curious look 

And dauntless eye ; — and yet, in sooth, 

Young Lewis was a generous youth ; 

But Ellen's lovely face and mien, 

111 suited to the garb and scene, 

Might lightly bear construction strange. 

And give loose fancy scope to range. 

" Welcome to Stirling towers, fair maid ! 

Come ye to seek a champion's aid. 

On palfrey white, with harper hoar. 

Like errant damosel of yore ? 

Does thy high quest a knight require. 

Or may the venture suit a squire ? " 

Her dark eye flashed; — she paused and sighed 



248 TEE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

" Oil what have I to do with pride ! — 
Throug^h scenes of sorrow, shame, and strife^ 
A suppliant for a father's life, 
I crave an audience of the King. 
Behold, to back my suit, a ring. 
The royal pledge of grateful claims, 
Given bv the Monarch to Fitz-James." 



The signet-ring young Lewis took 
With deep respect and altered look, 
And said : " This ring our duties own ; 
And pardon, if to worth unknown. 
In semblance mean obscurely veiled. 
Lady, in aught my folly failed. 
Soon as the day flings wide his gates. 
The King shall know what suitor waits. 
Please you meanwhile in fitting bower 
Kepose you till his waking hour ; 
Female attendance shall obey 
Your best, for service or array. 
Permit I marshal you the way." 
But, ere she followed, with the grace 
And open bounty of her race, 
She bade her slender purse be shared 
Among the soldiers of the guard. 
The rest with thanks their guerdon took, 
But Brent, with shy and awkward look. 



THE GUARD-ROOM, 249 

On the reluctant maiden's hold 

Forced bluntly back the proffered gold : — 

" Forgive a haughty English heart, 

And oh, forget its ruder part ! 

The vacant purse shall be my share, 

Which in my barret-cap I '11 bear, 

Perchance, in jeopardy of war, 

Where gayer crests may keep afar." 

With thanks — 't was all she could — the maid 

His rugged courtesy repaid. 



XI. 

When Ellen forth with Lewis went, 
Allan made suit to John of Brent : — 
" My lady safe, oh let your grace 
Give me to see my master's face ! 
His minstrel I, — to share his doom 
Bound from the cradle to tlie tomb. 
Tenth in descent, since first my sires 
Waked for his noble house their lyres. 
Nor one of all the race was known 
But prized its weal above their own. 
With the Chiefs birth begins our care ; 
Our harp must soothe the infant heir. 
Teach the youth tales of fight, and grace 
His earliest feat of field or chase ; 
In peace, in war, our rank we keep, 
We cheer his board, we soothe his sleep, 



250 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Nor leave him till we pour our verse — 
A doleful tribute ! — o'er his hearse. 
Then let me share his captive lot ; 
It is my right, — deny it not!" 
" Little we reck," said John of Brent, 
" We Southern men, of long descent; 
Nor wot we how a name — a word — 
Makes clansmen vassals to a lord : 
Yet kind my noble landlord's part, — 
God bless the house of Beaudesert ! 
And, but I loved to drive the deer 
More than to guide the laboring steer, 
I had not dwelt an outcast here. 
Come, good old Minstrel, follow me ; 
Thy Lord and Chieftain shalt thou see." 



XII. 

Then, from a rusted iron hook, 
A bunch of ponderous keys he took. 
Lighted a torch, and Allan led 
Through grated arch and passage dread. 
Portals they passed, where, deep within, 
Spoke prisoner's moan and fetters' din ; 
Through rugged vaults, where, loosely stored, 
Lay wheel, and axe, and headsman's sword. 
And many a hideous engine grim, 
For wrenching joint and crushing limb, 
By artists formed who deemed it shame 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 251 

And sin to give their work a name. 

They halted at a low-browed porch, 

And Brent to Allan gave the torch, 

While bolt and chain he backward rolled, 

And made the bar unhasp its hold. 

They entered : — 't was a prison-room 

Of stern security and gloom, 

Yet not a dungeon ; for the day 

Through lofty gratings found its way, 

And rude and antique garniture 

Decked the sad walls and oaken floor. 

Such as the rugged days of old 

Deemed fit for captive noble's hold. 

" Here," said De Brent, " thou mayst remain 

Till the Leech visit him again. 

Strict is his charge, the warders tell. 

To tend the noble prisoner well." 

Eetiring then the bolt he drew. 

And the lock's murmurs growled anew. 

Roused at the sound, from lowly bed 

A captive feebly raised his head ; 

The wondering Minstrel looked, and knew — 

Not his dear lord, but Roderick Dhii ! 

For, come from where Clan-Alpine fought, 

They, erring, deemed the Chief he sought. 



XIIT. 

As the tall ship, whose lofty prore 
Shall never stem the billows more. 



252 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Deserted by her gallant band, 

Amid the breakers lies astrand, — 

So on his coucli lay Roderick Dhu ! 

And oft his fevered limbs he threw 

In toss abrupt, as when her sides 

Lie rocking in the advancing tides, 

That shake her frame with ceaseless beat, 

Yet cannot heave her from her seat ; — 

Oh, how unlike her course at sea ! 

Or his free step on hill and lea ! — 

Soon as the Minstrel he could scan, — 

" What of thy lady ? — of my clan ? — 

My mother ? — Douglas ? — tell me all ! 

Have they been ruined in my fall ? 

Ah, yes ! or wherefore art thou here ? 

Yet speak, — speak boldly, — do not fear." — 

For Allan, who his mood well knew. 

Was choked with grief and terror too. — 

" Who fought ? — who fled ? — Old man, be brief : 

Some might, — for they had lost their Chief. 

Who basely live ? — who bravely died ? " 

" Oh, calm thee, Chief! " the Minstrel cried, 

" Ellen is safe ! " " Por that thank Heaven ! " 

" And hopes are for the Douglas given ; — 

The Lady Margaret, too, is well; 

And, for thy clan, — on field or fell, 

Has never harp of minstrel told 

Of combat fought so true and bold. 

Thy stately Pine is yet unbent. 

Though many a goodly bough is rent." 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 253 



XIV. 

The Chieftain reared his form on high, 

And fever's fire was in his eye ; 

But ghastly, pale, and livid streaks 

Checkered his swarthy hrow and cheeks. 

" Hark, Minstrel ! I have heard thee play, 

With measure bold on festal day, 

In yon lone isle, — again where ne'er 

Shall harper play or warrior hear ! — 

That stirring air that peals on high. 

O'er Dermid's race our victory. — 

Strike it ! — and then, — for well thou canst, 

Free from thy minstrel-spirit glanced. 

Fling me the picture of the fight, 

When met my clan the Saxon might. 

I'll listen, till my fancy hears 

The clang of swords, the crash of spears ! 

These grates, these walls, shall vanish then 

For the fair field of fighting men, 

And my free spirit burst away, 

As if it soared from battle fray." 

The trembling Bard with awe obeyed, — 

Slow on the harp his hand he laid ; 

But soon remembrance of the sight 

He witnessed from the mountain's height, 

With what old Bertram told at night, 

Awakened the full power of song, 

And bore him in career along; — 

As shallop launched on river's tide, 



254 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

That slow and fearful leaves the side, 
But, when it feels the middle stream, 
Drives downward swift as lightning's beam. 

XV. 

BATTLE OF BEAL' AN DUINE. 

" The Minstrel came once more to view 
The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
For ere he parted he would say 
Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
Where shall he find, in foreign land. 
So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
There is no breeze upon the fern, 

No ripple on the lake, 
Upon her eyry nods the enie. 

The deer has sought the brake ; 
The small birds will not sing aloud. 

The springing trout lies still, 
So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud. 
That swathes, as with a purple shroud. 

Benledi's distant hill. 
Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
That mutters deep and dread. 
Or echoes from the groaning ground 

The warrior's measured tread ? 
Is it the lightning's quivering glance 

That on the thicket streams. 
Or do they flash on spear and lance 
The sun's retiring beams ? — 



THE GUARB-RGOM. 



255 




I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
I see the Moray's silver star, 
Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, 
That up the lake comes winding far ! 
To hero boune for battle-strife, 

Or bard of martial lay, 
*T were worth ten years of peaceful life. 
One glance at their array ! 



256 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

XVI. 

" Their light-armed archers far and near 

Surveyed the tangled ground, 
Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 

A twilight forest frowned. 
Their barded horsemen in the rear 

The stern battalia crowned. 
No cymbal clashed, no clarion rang, 

Still were the pipe and drum ; 
Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 

The sullen march was dumb. 
There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 

Or wave their flags abroad ; 
Scarce the frail aspen seemed to quake, 

That shadowed o'er their road. 
Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 

Can rouse no lurking foe, 
Nor spy a trace of living thing, 

Save when they stirred the roe ; 
The host moves like a deep-sea wave, 
Where rise no rocks its pride to brave. 
High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
The lake is passed, and now they gain 
A narrow and a broken plain. 
Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws ; 
And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
While, to explore the dangerous glen, 
Dive through the pass the archer-men. 



THE GUARD- BOOM. 257 

XVII. 

" At once there rose so wild a yell 

Within that dark and narrow dell, 

As all the fiends from heaven that fell 

Had pealed the banner-cry of hell ! 
Forth from the pass in tnmult driven, 
Like chaff before the wind of heaven. 

The archery appear : 
For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
And shriek, and shont, and battle-cry. 
And plaids a*nd bonnets waving high, 
And broadswords flashing to the sky, 

Are maddening in the rear. 
Onward they drive in dreadful race. 
Pursuers and pursued ; 

Before that tide of flight and chase. 

How shall it keep its rooted place, 
The spearmen's twilight wood ? — 

'Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down! 
Bear back both friend mid foe ! ' — 

Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 

That sen-ied grove of lances brown 
At once lay levelled low ; 

Arid closely shouldering side to side, 

The bristling ranks the onset bide. — 

* We '11 quell the savage mountaineer, 
As their Tinchel cows the game ! 

They come as fleet as forest deer, 
We '11 drive them back as tame/ 



258 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

XVIII. 

" Bearing before them in their course 
The relics of the archer force, 
Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
Right onward did Clan-Alpine come. 

Above the tide, each broadsword bright 

Was brandishing like beam of light. 
Each targe was dark below ; 

And with the ocean's mighty swing, 

When heaving to the tempest's wing. 
They hurled them on the foe. 
I heard the lance's shivering crash. 
As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
As if a hundred anvils rang ! 
But Moray wheeled his rearward rank 
Of horsemen on Clan- Alpine's flank, — 
' My banner-man, advance ! 

I see,' he cried, ' their column shake. 

Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 
Upon them with the lance ! ' — 
The horsemen dashed among the rout. 

As deer break through the broom ; 
Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 

They soon make lightsome room. 
Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — 

Where, where was Roderick then ! 
One blast upon his bugle-horn 

Were worth a thousand men. 



^ 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 259 

And refluent through the pass of fear 

The battle's tide was poured ; 
Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear, 

Vanished the mouutaiu-suord. 
As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. 

Receives her roaring linn, 
As the dark caverns of the deep 
Suck the wild whirlpool in, 
So did the deep and darksome pass 
Devour tlie battle's mingled mass ; 
None linger now upon the plain, 
Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 



XIX. 

" N"ow westward rolls the battle's din, 
That deep and doubling pass within. — 
Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
Is bearing on ; its issue wait, 
Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. 
Gray Benvenue I soon repassed. 
Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 

The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, 
The lowering scowl of heaven 

An inky hue of livid blue 
To the deep lake has given ; 
Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 



260 



THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 




I heeded not the eddying surge, 
Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 
Mine ear but heard that sullen sound. 
Which like an earthquake shook the ground, 
And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
That parts not but Avith parting life, 



THE GUARD-ROOM, 261 

Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
The dirge of many a passing soul. 

Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 

The martial flood disgorged again. 
But not in mingled tide ; 

The plaided warriors of the Nortli 

High on the mountain thunder forth 
And overhang its side, 

While by the lake below appears 

The darkening cloud of Saxon spears. 

At weary bay each shattered band, 

Eying their foemen, sternly stand ; 

Their banners stream like tattered sail, 

That flings its fragments to the gale, 

And broken arms and disarray 

Marked tlie fell havoc of the day. 



XX. 

"Viewing the mountain's ridge askance, 
The Saxons stood in sullen trance, 
Till Moray pointed with his lance. 

And cried : ' Behold yon isle ! — 
See ! none are left to guard its strand 
But women weak, that wring the hand : 
'T is there of yore the robber band 

Their booty wont to pile ; — 
My purse, with bonnet-pieces store. 
To him will swim a bow-shot o'er. 



262 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And loose a sliallop from the shore. 
Lightly we '11 tame the war-wolf then, 
Lords of his mate, and- brood, and den.' 
Forth from the ranks a spearman sprung. 
On earth his casque and eorselet rung, 

He plunged him in the wave : — 
All saw the deed, — the purpose knew, 
And to their clamors Benvenue 

A mingled echo gave ; 
The Saxons shout, their mate to cheer. 
The helpless females scream for fear, 
And yells for rage the mountaineer. 
'T was then, as by the outcry riven, 
Poured down at once the lowering heaven : 
A whirlwind swept Loch Katrine's breast. 
Her billows reared their snowy crest. 
Well for the swimmer swelled they high. 
To mar the Highland marksman's eye ; 
For round him showered, mid rain and hail. 
The vengeful arrows of the Gael. 
In vain. — He nears the isle — and io ! 
His hand is on a shallop's bow. 
Just then a flash of lightning came. 
It tinged the waves and strand with flame ; 
I marked Duncraggan's widowed dame, 
Behind an oak I saw her stand, 
A naked dirk gleamed in her hand : — 
It darkened, — but amid the moan 
Of waves I heard a dying groan ; — 
Another flash ! — the spearman floats 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 2G3 

A weltering corse beside the boats, 
And the stern matron o'er him stood, 
Her hand and dagger streaming blood. 



XXI. 

" ' Revenge ! revenge ! ' the Saxons cried. 
The Gaels' exulting shout replied. 
Despite the elemental rage, 
Again they hurried to engage ; 
But, ere they closed in desperate fight, 
Bloody with spurring came a knight, 
Sprung from his horse, and from a crag 
Waved 'twixt the hosts a milk-white flag. 
Clarion and trumpet by his side 
Eiing forth a truce-note high and wide, 
While, in the Monarch's name, aftir 
A herald's voice forbade the war. 
For Bothwell's lord and Roderick bold 
Were both, he said, in captive hold." — • 
But here the lay made sudden stand, 
The harp escaped the Minstrel's hand ! 
Oft had he stolen a glance, to spy 
How Roderick brooked his minstrelsy : 
At first, the Chieftain, to the chime. 
With lifted hand kept feeble time ; 
That motion ceased, — yet feeling strong 
Varied his look as changed the song ; 
At length, no more his deafened ear 



264 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The minstrel melody can hear; 

His face grows sharp, — his hands are clenched: 

As if some pang his heart-strings wrenched ; 

Set are his teeth, his fading eye 

Is sternly fixed on vacancy ; 

Thus, motionless and moanless, drew 

His parting breath stout Roderick Dhu ! — 

Old Allan-bane looked on aghast. 

While grim and still his spirit passed ; 

lUit when he saw that life was fled, 

He poured his wailing o'er the dead. 



XXII. 

LAMENT. 

"And art thou cold and lowly laid, 
Thy foeman's dread, thy people's aid, 
Breadalbane's boast, Clan-Alpine's shade ! 
For thee shall none a requiem say ? — 
For thee, who loved the minstrel's lay, 
For thee, of Bothwell's house the stay. 
The shelter of her exiled line. 
E'en in this prison-house of thine, 
I '11 wail for Alpine's honored Pine ! 

''What groans shall yonder valleys fill! 
What shrieks of grief shall rend yon hill ! 
What teai's of bnrning rage shall thrill, 



THE GUARV-UOOM. 265 

When mourns thy tribe thy battles done, 
Thy fall before the race was won, 
Thy sword ungirt ere set of sun ! 
There breathes not clansman of thy line, 
But would have given his life for thine. 
Oh, woe for Alpine's honored Pine ! 

"Sad was tliy lot on mortal stage! — 
The captive thrush may brook the cage, 
The prisoned eagle dies for rage. 
Brave spirit, do not scorn my strain ! 
And, when its notes awake again, 
Even she, so long beloved in vain, 
Shall w^th my harp her voice combine, 
And mix her woe and tears with mine. 
To wail Clan-Alpine's honored Pine." 



XXIII. 

Ellen the while, with bursting heart, 

Eemained in lordly bower apart. 

Where played, with many-colored gleams. 

Through storied pane the rising beams. 

In vain on gilded roof they fall. 

And lightened up a tapestried wall. 

And for her use a menial train 

A ricli collation spread in vain. 

The banquet proud, the chamber gay. 

Scarce drew one curious glance astray ; 



266 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Or if she looked, 't was but to say, 
With better omen dawned the day 
In that lone isle, where waved on high 
The dun-deer*s hide for canopy ; 
Where oft her noble father shared 
The simple meal her care prepared, 
While Lufra, crouching by her side, 
Her station claimed with jealous pride, 
And Douglas, bent on woodland game. 
Spoke of the chase to Malcolm Graeme, 
AVhose answer, oft at random made, 
The wandering of his thoughts betrayed. 
Those who sucli simple joys have known 
Are taught to prize them when they 're gone. 
But sudden, see, she lifts her head. 
The window seeks with cautious tread. 
What distant music has the power 
To win her in this woful hour ? 
'T was from a turret that o'erhung 
Her latticed bower, the strain was sung. 



XXTV. 
LAY OF THE IMPRISONED HUNTSMAN. 

*'My hawk is tired of perch and hood, 
My idle greyhound loathes his food. 
My horse is weary of his stall. 
And I am sick of captive thrall. 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 'i^l 

I wish I were as I liave been, 
Hunting the hart in forest green, 
With bended bow and bloodhound free, 
For that 's the life is meet for nie. 

*' 1 hate to learn the ebb of time 
Prom yon didl steeple's drowsy chiine, 
Or mark it as the sunbeams crawl, 
Inch after inch, along the wall. 
The lark was wont my matins ring, 
The sable rook my vespers sing ; 
These towers, although a king's tliey be^ 
Have not a hall of joy for me. 

" No more at dawning morn I rise, 
And sun myself in Ellen's eyes, 
Drive the fleet deer the forest through, 
And homeward wend with evening dew; 
A blithesome welcome blithely meet, 
And lay my trophies at her feet. 
While fled the eve on wing of glee, — » 
That life is lost to love and me ! " 



XXV. 

The heart-sick lay was hardly said, 
The listener had not turned her head. 
It trickled still, the starting tear, 
When light a footstep struck her ear. 



268 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

And Snowdouii's graceful Knight was near. 

She turned the hastier, lest again 

The prisoner should renew his strain. 

" Oh welcome, brave Fitz- James ! " she said 

" How ma}'^ an almost orphan maid 

Pay the deep debt — " " Oh say not so ! 

To me no gratitude you owe. 

Not mine, alas ! the boon to give, 

And bid thy noble father live ; 

I can but be thy guide, SAveet maid, 

With Scotland's King thy suit to aid. 

No tyrant he, though ire and pride 

May lay his better mood aside. 

Come, Ellen, come! 'tis more than time, 

He holds his court at morning prime." 

AYith beating heart, and bosom wrung. 

As to a brother's arm she clung. 

Gently he dried the falling tear, 

And gently whispered hope and cheer ; 

Her faltering steps half led, half stayed. 

Through gallery fair and high arcade, 

Till at his touch its wings of pride 

A portal arch unfolded wide. 



XXVT. 

Withhi 't was brilliant all and light, 
A thronging scene of figures bright 
It o^lowed on Ellen's diizzled sii^ht. 



TEE OUARD-ROOM. 




As when the setting sun has sfiven 
Ten thousand hues to summer even, 
And from their tissue fancy frames 
Aerial knights and fairy dames. 
Still by Eitz-James her footing staid 



270 rfjjf; ijjjY OF THE LAKE. 

A few faint steps she forward made, 
Then slow her drooping head she raised, 
And fearful round the presence gazed ; 
For him she sought who owned this state, 
Tlie dreaded Prince whose will was fate ! — 
She gazed on many a princely port 
Might well have ruled a royal court ; 
On many a splendid garb slie gazed, — 
Then turned bewildered and amazed, 
For all stood bare ; and in the room 
Fitz- James alone wore cap and plume. 
To him each lady's look was lent, 
On him each courtier's eye was bent ; 
Midst furs and silks and jewels sheen. 
He stood, in simple Lincoln green, 
The centre of the glittering ring, — 
And Siiowdouii's Knight is Scotland's Kiiii 



XXVII. 

As wreath of snow on mountain-breast 

Slides from the rock that gave it rest, 

Poor Ellen glided from her stay, 

And at the Monarch's feet she lay ; 

No word her choking voice commands, — 

She showed the ring, — she clasped her ha)uls. 

Oh, not a moment could he brook, 

The generous Prince, tliat suppliant look! 

Gently he raised her, — and, the Avliile, 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 271 

Checked with a glance the cu'cle's smile; 

Graceful, but grave, her brow he kissed. 

And bade her terrors be dismissed : — 

" Yes, fair; the wandering poor Fitz- James 

The fealty of Scotland claims. 

To him thy woes, thy wishes, bring ; 

He will redeem his signet ring. 

Ask nought for Douglas ; — yester even, 

His Prince and he have much forgiven ; 

Wrong hath he had from slanderous tongue, 

I, from his rebel kinsmen, wrong. 

We would not, to the vulgar crowd, 

Yield what they craved with clamor loud ; 

Calmly we heard and judged his cause, 

Our council aided and our laws. 

I stanched thy father's death-feud stern 

With stout De Vaux and gray Glencairn ; 

And Both well's Lord henceforth we own 

The friend and bulwark of our throne. — • 

But, lovely infidel, how now ? 

What clouds thy misbelieving brow ? 

Lord James of Douglas, lend thine aid ; 

Thou must confirm this doubting maid." 



XXVIII. 

Then forth the noble Douglas sprung, 
And on his neck his daughter hung. 
The Monarch drank, that happy hour, 



272 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

The sweetest, holiest draught of Power, — 

When it can say with godlike voice. 

Arise, sad Virtue, and rejoice ! 

Yet would not James the general eye 

On nature's raptures long should pry ; 

He stepped between — "Nay, Douglas, nay. 

Steal not my proselyte away ! 

The riddle 't is my right to read, 

That brought this happy chance to speed. 

Yes, Ellen, when disguised I stray 

In life's more low but happier way, 

'Tis under name which veils my power. 

Nor falsely veils, — for Stirling's tower 

Of yore the name of Snowdoun claims, 

And Normans call me James Fitz-James. 

Thus watch I o'er insulted laws, 

Thus learn to right the injured cause." 

Then, in a tone apart and low, — 

" Ah, little traitress ! none must know 

What idle dream, what lighter thought, 

What vanity full dearly bought, 

Joined to thine eye's dark witchcraft, drew 

My spell-bound steps to Benvenue 

In dangerous hour, and all but gave 

Thy Monarch's life to mountain glaive ! " 

Aloud he spoke : " Thou still dost hold 

That little talisman of gold. 

Pledge of my faith, Pitz-James's ring, — 

What seeks fair Ellen of the Kino- ? " 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 273 

XXIX. 

Full well the conscious maiden guessed 

He probed the weakness of her breast ; 

But with that consciousness there came 

A lightening of her fears for Grserae, 

And more she deemed the Monarch's ire 

Kindled 'gainst him who for her sire 

Rebellious broadsword boldly drew ; 

And, to her generous feeling true, 

She craved the grace of Roderick Dhu. 

" Forbear thy suit ; — the King of kings 

Alone can stay life's parting wings. 

I know his heart, I know his hand. 

Have shared his cheer, and proved his brand ; — 

My fairest earldom would I give 

To bid Clan- Alpine's Chieftain live ! — 

Hast thou no other boon to crave ? 

No other captive friend to save ? " 

Blushing, she turned her from the King, 

And to the Douglas gave the ring, 

As if she wished her sire to speak 

The suit that stained her glowing cheek. 

" Nay, then, my pledge has lost its force, 

And stubborn justice holds her course. 

Malcolm, come forth ! " — and, at the word, 

Down kneeled the Graeme to Scotland's Lord. 

" For thee, rash youth, no suppliant sues, 

From thee may Vengeance claim her dues, 

Who, nurtured underneath our smile. 



274 THE LADY OF THE LAKE. 

Hast paid our care by treacherous wile. 
And souglit amid thy faithful clan 
A refuge for au outlawed man, 
Dishonoring thus thy loyal name. — 
Fetters and warder for the Grasme ! '* 
His chain of gold the King unstrung. 
The links o'er Malcolm's neck he flung, 
Then gently drew the glittering band. 
And laid the clasp on Ellen's hand. 



Harp of the North, farewell! The hills grow dark, 

On purple peaks a deeper shade descending ; 
In twilight copse the glow-worm lights her spark, 

The deer, half seen, are to the covert wending. 
Kesume thy wizard elm ! the fountain lending, 

And the wild breeze, thy wilder minstrelsy ; 
Thy numbers sweet with nature's vespers blending, 

With distant echo from tlie fold and lea. 
And herd-boy's evening pipe, and hum of housing bee. 

Yet, once again, farewell, thou Minstrel Harp ! 

Yet, once again, forgive my feeble sway. 
And little reck I of the censure sharp 

May idly cavil at an idle lay. 
Much have I owed thy strains on life's long way, 

Through secret woes the world has never known, 
When on the weary night dawned wearier day, 

And bitterer was the grief devoured alone. — 
That I o'erlive such woes. Enchantress ! is thine own. 



THE GUARD-ROOM. 275 

Hark ! as my lingering footsteps slow retire, 

Some Spirit of the Air has waked thy string ! 
'T is now a seraph bold, with touch of fire, 

'T is now the brush of Fairy's frolic wing. 
Eeceding now, the dying numbers ring 

Fainter and fainter down the rugged dell ; 
And now the mountain breezes scarcely bring 

A wandering witch-note of the distant spell — 
And now, 't is silent all ! — Enchantress, fare thee well ! 



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motion of good citizenship, and the development of intel- 
ligence, refinement, and high character among the boys 
and girls so fortunate as to enjoy their influence. 



3i^i\jersttie ^t|)ool ilitjrarp 

A SERIES OF BOOKS OF PERMANENT VALUE 
CAREFULLY CHOSEN, THOROUGHLY ED- 
ITED, CLEARLY PRINTED, DURABLY 
BOUND IN HALF LEATHER 
AND SOLD AT LOW 
PRICES 

PREPARED WITH SPECIAL REGARD 
EOR AMERICAN SCHOOLS 

*:)j* All the books named are i6mo in size, except when otherwise indicated. 

For a full alphabetical list of the authors xvhose books are iiiiiuded 
in this series, see the last page of this catalogue. 



Andersen, Hans Christian, Stories by. With a Por- 
trait. 207 pp., 50 cents. 

All of Andersen's short stories would require two large vol- 
umes, but he was an unequal writer, and the collection here 
given contains his best known and most attractive stories. 
The translator has followed carefull}' the very simple style of 
Andersen, so that the book can be read by any one who has 
mastered the second reader, and by some who have mastered 
the first. Andersen has been called the first child who has 
contributed to literature, so thoroughly does he understand a 
child's imagination. The Preface gives a pleasant glimpse of 
the man. 

Arabian Nights, Tales from the. In preparation. 
Autocrat of the Breakfast- Table, The. By Oliver 
Wendell Holmes. With Biographical Sketch and 
Portrait. 345 pp., 60 cents. 

Dr. Holmes lived to see The Autocrat read by the grand- 

1 



children of those who read it when it lirst apjjeared, and age 
does not diminish the charms of the juiciest book in American 
literature. It is like overhearing the witty talk of a brilliant 
conversationalist to read this book, and the imaginary charac- 
ters who listen to the Autocrat and occasionally put in a word 
come to be as well known to readers as many more loquacious 
persons. A sketch gives the outline of the author's career. 
Being a Boy. By Charles Dudley Warner. With 

Biographical Sketch, Portrait, and other Illustrations. 

254 pp., 60 cents. 

Mr. Warner tells in a playful way not merely a story of his 
own boyhood, but the story of country New England life nearly 
half a century ago. 
Birds and Bees, and Other Studies in Nature. By 

John Burroughs. With Biographical Sketch, Portrait, 

and Notes. 288 pp., 60 cents. 

John Burroughs has taken his place as one of the most de- 
lightful writers in America on subjects connected with nature. 
His observation is close, and his manner is most friendly as 
he discourses of birds, bees, trees, berries, herbs, landscapes, 
flowers. 
Bird - Ways. By Olive Thorne Miller. With 

Sketch and Portrait of the Author. 236 pp., 60 cents. 

In fourteen sketches of the American Robin, Wood Thrush, 
European Song Thrush, Cat-bird, Redwing Black-bird, Balti- 
• more Oriole, and House Sparrow, Mrs. Miller gives the habits 
and ways of birds that she has herself watched. The special 
value of her studies is in their consideration of particular birds. 
Captains of Industry. By James Parton. In two 

series. Each 400 pp., 60 cents. 

In these two volumes are contained ninety-four brief, pungent 
biographies, most of them relating to men of business who did 
something, as Mr. Parton says, besides making money. Some 
of the sketches are of striking characters, of whom no extended 
biographies have been waitl^en, Mr. Parton having obtained 
hisinformation at first hand. In all the author gets at the 
pith of the subject. 

Child Life in Poetry and Child Life in Prose, Selec- 
tions from. Edited by John Greenleaf Whittier. 

196 pp., 50 cents. 

Mr. Whittier, aided by Miss Larcom, made two considerable 



collections of poetry and prose, from the writings of well- 
known authors. The present volume contains the choicest 
of these selections, with a view to meeting the needs of the 
younger readers. 

Children's Hour, The, and Other Poems. By 

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. With Biographi- 
cal Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and Illustrations. 264 pp. 
60 cents. 

In this volume are gathered the most popular of Long- 
fellow's shorter poems, beginning with those most familiar and 
easy and proceeding to the more scholarly. It is a wide range 
which takes in The Children's Hour, Paul Revere's Ride, and 
The Building of the Ship. 

Christmas Carol in Prose, A, and The Cricket on 
the Hearth. By Charles Dickens. With a Sketch 
of the Life of Dickens, a Portrait, and three Illustra- 
tions. 230 pp., 50 cents. 
These two stories are the most famous and delightful of the 

celebrated Christmas books by Dickens, which fifty years ago 

made a new form in English Literature. 

Enoch Arden, The Coming of Arthur, and Other 
Poems. By Alfred, Lord Tennyson. With Intro- 
ductions, Notes, and a Portrait. 223 pp., 50 cents. 
Lord Tennyson's story of Enoch Arden has struck deep into 
the heart of a generation of readers, and the poems which are 
grouped with it include four of the famous Idylls of the King. 

Essays and Poems. By Ralph Waldo Emerson. In 

preparation. 

Evangeline, Hiawatha, and the Courtship of Miles 
Standish. With a Sketch of the Life and Writings of 
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, "Longfellow at Home" 
by Alice M. Longfellow, Explanatory Notes, Portrait, 
Map, and Illustrations. 396 pp., 60 cents. 
The two long narrative poems by which the poet is best 

known brought together in a single volume, and fully equipped 

with the needful history of the poet and his works, and such 

aids as the interested reader desires. 

Fables and Folk Stories. By Horace E. Scudder. 
With Frontispiece Illustration. 200 pp., 50 cents. 
3 



The most familiar fables, chiefly from ALsop, and the most 
famous folk stories, such as Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast, 
Little Red Riding Hood, Tom Thumb, Dick Whittington and 
his Cat, Puss in Boots, Jack and the Bean Stalk, told over 
again in language simple enough for those who are reading in 
the second reader. Millais's Cinderella furnishes the frontis- 
piece. 

Franklin's Autobiography. With a Sketch of his 

Life from the point where the Autobiography closes. 

With tliree Illustrations, a Map, and a Chronological 

Table. 260 pp., 50 cents. 

Benjamin Franklin wrote many letters and scientific treatises, 
but his Autobiography will outlive them all, for it will continue 
to be read with delight by all Americans, when his other writ- 
ings are read only by students of history or science. It is one 
of'the world's great books, in which a great man tells simply 
and easily the story of his own life. Franklin brought the 
story down to his fiftieth year. The remainder is told chiefly 
through his letters. A chronological table gives a survey of 
the events in his life and the great historical events occurring 
in his lifetime. An introductory note gives the history of this 
famous book. 

German Household Tales. By the Brothers Grii^im. 
In preparatio7i. 

Grandfather's Chair, or, True Stories from New 

England History ; and Biographical Stories. By 

Nathaniel Hawthorne. With a Biographical Sketch 

and Portrait, Notes and Illustrations. pp., 60 cents. 

This is one of the most delightful books for beginners in 

history in our literature. The great romancer never was so 

happy as when he was writing for the young, and the book 

has been enriched by many pictures and a map. hi addition 

also to Grandfather's Chair, the volume contains half a dozen 

biographical stories by Hawthorne in the same vein. 

Grandmother's Story of Bunker Hill Battle, and 
Other Verse and Prose. By Oliver Wendell 
Holmes. 190 pp., Portrait, 50 cents. 
The spirited ballads and humorous poems of Dr. Holmes, 

together with his animated narrative of My Hunt after the 

Captain, and other prose papers. 

4 



Gulliver's Travels. The Voyage to Lilliput and Brob- 

dingnag. By Jonathan Swift. With Introductory 

Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and two Maps. 193 pp., 50 cents. 

These famous Voyages give one the entertainment caused 

by looking first through one end, then through the other, of a 

spy-glass, and the glass is always turned on men and women, 

so that we" see them first as pygmies, and afterward as giants. 

The Introductory Sketch gives an account of Dean Swift and 

his writings, and there are two curiously fanciful maps copied 

from an early edition. 

Holland, Brave Little, and What She Taught Us. 

By William Elliot Griffis. With a Map and four 

Illustrations. 266 pp., 60 cents. 

A rapid survey of the development of Holland with special 
reference to the part which the country has played in the 
struggle for constitutional liberty and to the association of 
Holland with the United States of America. 

House of the Seven Gables, The. By Nathaniel 
Hawthorne. With Introductory Sketch, Picture of 
Hawthorne's Birthplace, and Portrait. i2mo. 384 pp., 
70 cents. 

This romance is instinct with tlie feeling for old Salem, and 
it embodies some of Hawthorne's most graceful fancies, as in 
the chapter entitled The Pyncheon Garden. The Introduc- 
tory Sketch gives an outline of Hawthorne's career. 

Ivanhoe. By Sir Walter Scott. With a Biographical 

Sketch and Notes, a Portrait and other Illustrations. 

i2mo. 529 pp., 70 cents. 

One of the great Waverley novels. It is hard to say which 
is the most popular of Scott's novels. Every reader has his 
favorite, but the fact that Ivanhoe has been selected as a book 
to be read by students preparing for college shows the estimate 
in which it is held by teachers. 
Japanese Interior, A. By Alice Bacon. 228 pp., 

60 cents. 

Miss Bacon was for some time an American teacher in a 
school in Japan to which daughters of the nobility were sent. 
Her own life and her acquaintance gave her exceptional oppor- 
tunities for seeing the inside of houses and the private life of 
the Japanese, and in this volume she gives a clear account of 
her observation and experience. 

5 



Lady of the Lake, The. By Sir Walter Scott. 
With a Sketch of Scott's Ufa, and thirty-three Illustra- 
tions. 275 pp., 60 cents. 

This poem by Scott is almost always the first one to be 
read when Scott is taken up, and the picturesqueness, move- 
ment and melody of the verse make it one of the last to fade 
from the memory. A sketch of the poet's life takes special 
cognizance of the poetic side of his nature, and many of the 
illustrations are careful stories from the scenes of the poem. 

Last of the Mohicans, The. By James Fenimore 
Cooper. With an Introduction by Susan Feniimore 
Cooper, Biographical Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and two 
other Illustrations. i2mo. 471 pp., 70 cents. 
This is one of the most popular of Cooper's Leather-Stock- 
ing Tales. The scene is laid during the French and Indian 
war, and the story contains those portraitures of Indians and 
hunters which have fixed in the minds of men the characteris- 
tics of these figures. A biographical sketch introduces Cooper 
to the reader, and Miss Susan Fenimore Cooper, daughter of 
the novelist, gives an interesting account of the growth of this 
story. 

Lilliput and Brobdingnag, The Voyage to. See 

Gulliver's Travels. 

Milton's Minor Poems and Three Books of Para- 
dise Lost. With Biographical Sketch, Introductions, 
Notes, and Portrait. 206 pp., 50 cents. 
The great poems by which John Milton is known, L' Allegro, 
II Penseroso, Comus, Lycidas, and a selection of sonnets, are 
followed by the first three books of his epic. The introductions 
and notes offer aids to a clear interpretation and true enjoy- 
ment of the author. 

New England Girlhood, A, Outlined from Memory. 
By Lucy Larcom. With Introductory Sketch and Por- 
trait. 274 pp., 60 cents. 

Miss Larcom has here told the story of her early life, when 
as a country girl she entered the mills at Lowell, Massachusetts, 
and she has drawn a picture of New England in the middle of 
the century as she knew it, scarcely to be found in any other 
book. The narrative is a delightful bit of autobiography, and 
has a charm both poetic and personal. 

6 



Pilgrim's Progress, The. By John Bunyan. In pre- 
paration. 

Polly Oliver's Problem. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 

With Introductory Sketch and Portrait. 212 pp., 60 

cents. 

A story for girls, showing how a girl in straitened circum- 
stances' bravely worked out the problem of self-support. 

Rab and his Friends ; and Other Dogs and Men. By 
Dr. John Brown. With an Outline Sketch of Dr. 
Brown, and a Portrait. 299 pp., 60 cents. 
The touching story of Rab and his Friends has introduced 
many readers to the beautiful character of Dr. John Brown, 
the Edinburgh physician who wrote the tale, and in this vol- 
ume are gathered a number of Dr. Brown's sketches and tales, 
including Marjorie Fleming, and several bright narratives of 
dogs. 

Robinson Crusoe. By Daniel Defoe. With an In- 
troductory Sketch and Portrait of the author, a Map, 
and explanatory Notes. 409 pp., 60 cents. 
The first part of Robinson Crusoe is here given entire, and 
this is the part which the world knows as Robinson Crusoe. 
In the introductory sketch, the editor, besides giving an ac- 
count of Defoe's career, shows the reason why this book has 
been received by readers old and young as a work of genius, 
when almost the whole of the great mass of Defoe's writing 
has been forgotten. A map enables one to trace Robinson 
Crusoe's imaginary voyagings and to place the island near the 
disputed boundary of Venezuela. 

Shakespeare, Tales from. By Charles and Mary 
Lamb. With an Introductory Sketch and Portraits of 
the authors. 324 pp., 60 cents. 

There is a story behind every great play, and it is only after 
one has got at the story that one thoroughly understands and 
enjoys the play. Charles and Mary Lamb were themselves 
delightful writers, and to read their Tales from Shakespeare 
is not only to have a capital introduction to the great drama- 
tist's works, but to hear fine stories finely told. This volume 
contains, besides, an account of the brother and sister, whose 
life together is one of the' most touching tales in English Lit- 
erature. 



Shakespeare's Julius Caesar and As You Like It. 

With Introductions and Notes. 224 pp., 50 cents. 

The text followed is that of the eminent Shakespearian 
scholar, Richard Grant White, whose notes, always to the 
point, have also been used and added to. 
Silas Marner : the Weaver of Raveloe. By George 

Eliot. With an Introduction and a Portrait. 251 pp., 

50 cents. 

Silas Marner is one of the most perfect novels on a small 
scale in the English language, and its charm resides both in 
its style and its fine development of character. The introduc- 
tion treats of the life and career of George Eliot, and the place 
she occupies in Enghsh Literature. 
Sketch Book, Essays from the. By Washington 

Irving. With Biographical Sketch and Chronological 

Table of the Period covered by Irving's Life, Portrait, 

Picture of Westminster Abbey, Introduction, and Notes. 

212 pp., 50 cents. 

In a nearly equal division, the most interesting American 
and Eastern sketches from Irving's Sketch Book are grouped 
in this volume, including Rip Van Winkle, The Legend of 
Sleepy Hollow, Rural Life in England, Christmas Day, and 
Westminster Abbey. 

Snow-Bound, The Tent on the Beach and Other 
Poems. By John Greenleaf Whittier. With Bio- 
graphical Sketch, Notes, Portrait, and Illustrations. 
250 pp., 60 cents. 

This volume contains those poems which have made Whit- 
tier a great household poet, as well as a few of those stirring 
lyrics which recall his strong voice for freedom. 
Stories and Poems for Children. By Celia Thax- 
TER. With Biographical Sketch and Portrait. 272 
pp., 60 cents. 

Mrs. Thaxter's girlhood in her isolated home on the Isles of 
Shoals and her hfe there on her return in maturity gave her mate- 
rial which she used with power and beauty in her verse and prose. 

Stories from Old English Poetry. By Ab«y Sage 
Richardson. With frontispiece. 292 pp., 60 cents. 
A group of stories after the manner of Lamb's Tales from 

Shakespeare, drawn from Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare, and 

8 



some of the lesser poets, not now generally read ; stories of 

great beauty in themselves, and illuminated by the genius of 

the poets who used them. 

Story of a Bad Boy, The. By Thomas Bailey 
Aldrich. With Biographical Sketch, Portrait, and 
many Illustrations. i2mo. 265 pp., 70 cents. 
A humorous and graphic story of the adventures of a hearty 

American boy living in an old seaport town. The book has been 

a great favorite with a generation of boys. 

Tales of a Wayside Inn. By Henry Wadsworth 
Longfellow. With Introduction, Notes, and Illus- 
trations. 274 pp., 60 cents. 

In the Introduction the reader is told who were the friends 
of the poet who served as models for the several story-tellers 
that gathered about Howe's tavern in Sudbury. The tales 
include such famous stories as Paul Revere's Ride, Lady 
Wentworth, and The Birds of Kilhngworth. 

Tales of New England. By Sarah Orne Jewett. 
With Portrait and Biographical Sketch of the author. 
276 pp., 60 cents. 

Eight of the stories which show Miss Jewett as the sympa- 
thetic narrator of homely New England country life. The 
stories are Miss Tempy's Watchers; The Dulham Ladies; An 
Only Son; Marsh Rosemary; A White Heron; Law Lane; 
A Lost Lover; The Courting of Sister Wisby. 

Tom Brown's School Days. By Thomas Hughes. 

With an Introductory Sketch, two Portraits, and six 

other Illustrations. 390 pp., 60 cents. 

Tom Brown at Rugby is the popular name by which this 
book is known. It is perhaps the best read story of school- 
boy life in the English language. Rugby was the English 
school presided over by Dr. Thomas Arnold, and a portrait of 
Arnold is given. The introductory sketch gives an account of 
Arnold and Rugby, of Thomas Hughes, the "Old Boy" who 
wrote the book, and mentions Frederic Denison Maurice, who 
had a great influence over Hughes. The volume contains por- 
traits of Hughes and Dr. Arnold. 

Two Years Before the Mast. By Richard Henry 
Dana, Jr. With Biographical Sketch and Portrait. 
i2mo. 480 pp., 70 cents. 
9 



As a frontispiece to this book there is a portrait of the au- 
thor when he took his famous voyage just after leaving college. 
But great as Dana was as a lawyer, orator and statesman, he 
lives chiefly in the memory of men as the narrator of a voyage 
round Cape Horn to San Francisco before the discovery of 
gold. The days of such exploits seem gone by, but this book 
remains as a literary record and will always be thus re- 
membered. 
Uncle Tom's Cabin ; or, Life among the Lowly. By 

Harriet Beecher Stowe. With Introductory chapter 

on Mrs. Stowe and her career, and Portrait. 12 mo. 

518 pp., 70 cents. 

The most celebrated American book, and one of the world's 
great books. The introductory chapter gives a sketch of Mrs. 
Stowe's life, and some account of a book which has had a won- 
derful history. It has well been called not a book only but a 
great deed. 

Vicar of Wakefield, The. By Oliver Goldsmith. 

With Introduction, Notes, Portraits, and Illustrations. 

232 pp., 50 cents. 

So celebrated is this book as a piece of English that German 
boys, when set to studying the English language, are early 
given this tale. It is Goldsmith's one story, and has outlived 
a vast number of novels written in his day. 

Vision of Sir Launfal, The, and Other Verse and 
Prose. By James Russell Lowell. With Biographi- 
cal Sketch, Portrait, and other Illustrations. 262 pp., 
60 cents. 

The volume contains, besides the famous Sir Launfal, the 
great odes called out by the war for the Union and by the cen- 
tennial observance of 1875, an example of the Biglow Papers, 
the poem on Agassiz, The Courtin', and a number of the well- 
known shorter lyrics. The last third of the book is occupied 
with 'four of the literary essays which divide the honors with 
Lowell's poetry. Books and Libraries, Emerson the Lecturer, 
Keats, and Don Quixote. 

War of Independence, The. By John Fiske. With 
Biographical Sketch, Portrait of the author, and four 
Maps. 214 pp., 60 cents. 

Dr. John Fiske is the most eminent of living American 
historians. His large histories are read eagerly, as he adds 

10 



volume to volume, and in time it is hoped that he will cover 
the whole course of American history. This small book con- 
tains in a nutshell the meat of a great book. It is a clear 
narrative, and what is quite as important it gives the why and 
wherefore of the revolution, and explains how one event led to 
another. It contains also suggestions for collateral reading 
and a biographical sketch which gives some notion of the 
author's training as a scholar and author. 
Washington, George. An Historical Biography. By 

Horace E. Scudder. With four Illustrations. 253 pp., 

60 cents. 

Within a brief compass Mr. Scudder has attempted to give 
the narrative of Washington's life, and to show that he was a 
living, breathing man, and not, as some seem to think him, a 
marble statue. He calls his book an historical biography be- 
cause he has tried to show the figure in its relation to the great 
events of American history in which it was set. 

Wonder-Book, The, and Tanglewood Tales. For 

Girls and Boys. By Nathaniel Haw^thorne. With 

Biographical Sketch, and Frontispiece by Walter 

Crane. i2mo, 421 pp., 70 cents. 

The old Greek myths told over again by the greatest of 
American romancers. Here are the stories such as The 
Gorgon's Head, The Argonauts, the Dragon's Teeth, Midas, 
The Three Golden Apples, which in allusion or reference con- 
stantly meet the reader of literature. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

4 Park St., Boston; 11 East 17th St., New York; 
158 Adams St., Chicago. 



A Companion Volume to the Masterpieces of American 
Literature. 

itta0terpiece0 of iBxitisl) literature^ 

12mo, 480 pages, $1.00, 7iet, postpaid. 
With a portrait of each author. 

Ruskin: Biographical Sketch; The King of the Golden River. 

Macaulay: Biographical Sketch; Horatius. 

Dr. John Bkown: Biographical Sketch; Rab and his Friends; Our 
Dogs. 

Tennyson: Biographical Sketch; Enoch Arden ; The Charge of the 
Light Brigade ; The Death of the Old Year ; Crossing the Bar. 

Dickens: Biographical Sketch; The Seven Poor Travellers. 

Wordsworth: Biographical Sketch; We are Seven; The Pet Lamb, 
The Reverie of Poor Susan; To a Skylark; To the Cuckoo; She Avas a 
Phantom of Delight; Three Years she'Grevv ; She Dwelt among the Un- 
trodden Ways; Daffodils; To the Daisy; Yarrow Unvisited; Stepping 
Westward; Sonnet, composed upon Westminster Bridge; To Sleep; It is 
a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free; Extempore Effusion upon the Death 
of James Hogg; Resolution and Lidependence. 

Burns: Biographical Sketch; The Cotter's Saturday Night; To a 
Mouse; To a Mountr.in Daisy; A Bard's Epitaph; Songs r'For A' That and 
A' That; Auld Lang Syne'; M}' Father was a Farmer; John Anderson; 
Flow Gently, Sv/eet Afton; Highland Mary; To Mary in Heaven; I Love 
my Jean; Oh, Wert Thou in the Caula Blast; A Red, Red Rose; Mary 
Morison; Wandering Willie; My Nannie's Awa'; Bonnie Doon ; My 
Heart 's in the Highlands. 

Lamb: Biographical Sketch; Essays of Elia: Dream Children, A Rev- 
erie; A Dissertation upon Roast Pig; Barbara S ; Old China. 

Coleridge: Biographical Sketch; The Rime of the Ancient Mariner; 
Kubla Khan, or, A Vision in a Dream. 

Byron: Biographical Sketch; The Prisoner of Chillon; Sonnet; Fare 
Thee Well; She Walks in Beauty; The Destruction of Sennacherib. 

Cowper: Biographical Sketch; The Diverting History of John Gilpin; 
On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture ; On the Loss of the Royal George; 
Verses supposed to be Written by Alexander Selkirk; Epitaph' on a Hare; 
The Treatment of his Hares. 

Gray: Biographical Sketch; Elegy, written in a Country Churchyard; 
On a Distant Prospect of Eton College. 

Goldsmith: Biographical Sketch; The Deserted Village. 

Sir Roger de Coverley Papers : Litroduction ; The Spectator's 
Account of Himself; The Club; Sir Roger at his Country House; The 
Coverley Household ; Will Wimble ; Death of Sir Roger de' Coverley. 

Milton: Biographical Sketch; L' Allegro ; U Penseroso ; Lycidas. 

Bacon: Biographical Sketch; Bacon's Essays: Of Travel; of Studies; 
of Suspicion; of Negotiating ; of Masques and Triumphs. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY, 

4 Park Street, Boston; 11 East 17th Street, New Yokk, 
158 Adams Street, Chicago. 



ADDITIONAL INEXPENSIVE BOOKS 

ESPECIALLY ADAPTED FOR 

LIBRARY USE 

ALL ARE STRONGLY BOUND IN CLOTH. 



WITHOUT NOTES: 

MODERN CLASSICS. A Library of complete Essays, 
Tales, and Poems from the works of American, British, 
and Continental writers. 34 volumes, averaging 310 
pages, $13.60. Each vohime, 32mo, 40 cents, net. 

"An unrivaled list of excellent works." — Dr. William T. Har- 
ris, U. S. Commissioner of Education . 

WITH BRIEF NOTES: 

51 Bound Volumes of the RIVERSIDE LITERATURE 
SERIES, at prices ranging from 25 cents to 60 cents. 

American Poems, American Prose, Masterpieces of Amer- 
ican Literature, Masterpieces of British Literature, 
Fibre's History of the United States for Schools, 
Fiske's Civil Government in the United States. Each 
$1.00, net. 

WITH FULL NOTES: 

ROLFE'S STUDENTS' SERIES OF STANDARD 
ENGLISH POEMS for Schools and Colleges. Edited 
by W. J. RoLFE, Litt. D., and containing complete poems 
by Scott, Tennyson, Byron, and Morris. With a 
carefully revised text, copious explanatory and critical 
notes, and numerous illustrations. 11 volumes, square 
T6mo. Price per volume, 75 cents. To teachers, by 
mail, 53 cents, net. 

Fidl descriptive circulars of the books mentioned above will be sent to 
any address on application. 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

4 Park Street, Boston; ii East 17th Street, New York; 
158 Adams Street, Chicago. 



A Condensed List of the Riverside School Library 

Descriptions of tJiese fifty books will befowid in the preceding pages 

Cents. 

Aldrich. The Story of a Bad Boy 70 

Andersen. Stories 50 

Arabian Nights, Tales from the.* 50 

Bacon. A Japanese Interior 60 

Brown, John. Rab and his Friends; and Other Dogs and Men 60 

Bunyan. The Pilgrim's Progress.* 60 

Burroughs. Birds and Bees, and Other Studies in Nature 60 

Cooper. The Last of the Mohicans 70 

Dana. Two Years Before the Mast 70 

Defoe. Robinson Crusoe 60 

Dickens. A Christmas Carol, and The Cricket on the Hearth 50 

Eliot, George. Silas Marner 50 

Emerson. Essays and Poems.* 50 

Fiske. The War of Independence 60 

Franklin. Autobiography 50 

Goldsmith. The Vicar of Wakefield 50 

Griffis. Brave Little Holland 60 

Grimm. Cierman Household Tales.* 50 

Hawthorne. Grandfather's Chair, or, True Stories from New England History; 

and Biographical Stories 60 

" The House of the Seven Gables 70 

" The Wonder-Book, and Tanglewood Tales 70 

Holmes. The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table 60 

" Grandmother's Story, and Other Verse and Prose 50 

Hughes. Tom Brown's School Days 60 

Irving. Essays from the Sketch Book 50 

Jewett, Sarah Orne. Tales of New England 60 

Lamb. Tales from Shakespeare 60 

Larcom, Lucy. A New England Girlhood 60 

Longfellow. The Children's Hour, and Other Poems 60 

" Evangeline, Hiawatha, and The Courtship of Miles Standish 60 

" Tales of a Wayside Inn 60 

Lowell. The Vision of Sir Launf al, and Other Verse and Prose 60 

Miller, Olive Thorne. Bird-Ways 60 

Milton. Minor Poems, and Books I. -III. of Paradise Lost 50 

Parton. Captains of 1 ndustry, First Series 60 

" Captains of Industry, Second Series 60 

Richardson, Abby Sage. Stories from Old English Poetry 60 

Scott. Ivanhoe 7° 

" The Lady of the Lake 60 

Scudder. Fables and Folk Stories 50 

" George Washington 60 

Shakespeare. Julius Caesar, and As You Like It 50 

Sto we. Uncle Tom 's Cabin 70 

Swift. Gulliver's Voyages to Lilliput and Brobdingnag 50 

Tennyson. Enoch Arden, The Coming of Arthur, and Other Poems 50 

Thaxter, Celia. Stories and Poems for Children 60 

Warner. Being a Boy 60 

Whittier. Selections from Child Life in Poetry and Prose 50 

" Snow-P)Ound, The Tent on the Beach, and Other Poems 60 

Wiggin, Kate Douglas. Polly Oliver's Problem 60 

* The hooks marked with a star are iji preparation for speedy issue. 
The others are now ready. {October i, i8qb.) 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
Boston, New York, Chicago 



